Context / Valencia, Spain

Valencia. Spain’s third-largest city has long waned in the shadows of neighboring metropolitan areas - Madrid (political capital) and Barcelona (economic capital). However, laying on the fertile banks of the Turia River on the east coast of the Iberian Peninsula, the city has always been a centralized and sought-after resource with strong maritime connections to the rest of Europe. Like most Spanish cities in the region, Valencia has had a lengthy and transformative past starting as a prosperous Roman colony two millennia ago, leading to Moorish rule in the 8th to 13 centuries, the center of the Christian kingdom of Valencia during the middle ages, the capital of the Republic during the Spanish civil war, and currently the capital of the autonomous community of Valencia. Recently, the city’s maritime culture has grown globally with one of the busiest container ports in Europe and the largest on the Mediterranean Sea, filling the Gulf of Valencia with numerous cargo ships along the eastern edge of the city. But, despite having vast access to the Spanish coastline, the spirit and historic urban core of the city is not necessarily integrated thoroughly with its beaches - like its Catalonian neighbor to the north - with significant urban development of historic Moorish/Gothic/Baroque-accented city districts focused further down the mouth of the Turia River.

Toward the end of the last millennium, the city that was widely overlooked by its larger urban siblings for so long was ready to mature. Perceived economic neglect by the central government (Valencia had the lowest investments in Spain) the city took charge - with increasing worldwide capital gains, cheap available credit and pride in turning a once little-considered place to becoming a cutting edge city - the Valencian government began to invest heavily on large-scale development and urban ‘beautification’ projects throughout the city with ambitions on gaining international interest and establishing itself as the ‘cultural capital’ of Spain. An economy once known for its industries - textiles, ceramics, toys, food, leather goods, etc - was instantly spurred by tourism and construction (accounting for up to 14% of employment in city), leading to a reciprocal expansion of telecommunications and transport infrastructure, with a significant share of capital reinvested in those sectors. Now, a city that hadn’t had a highway to Madrid until 1997, has more miles of high-speed train tracks per capita than anywhere in the world - including a new high-speed rail service linking Madrid (about 200 miles) to Valencia, making it easier for seaside tourists to visit and experience the refurbished city. Major investment would also be made to promote international events - such as the America’s Cup yacht race and the European Gran Prix - that now frequents the city’s Mediterranean shores, bringing international notability to the city that longed-for attention. In the last decade, Valencia had not seen such a building boom like this since the Middle Ages - a time when impressive Gothic structures, such as the medieval church of Miguelete, were constructed throughout Valencia’s urban center - but a faltering world economy would soon transpire, forever changing the city’s ambitious and idealistic urban evolution.

Chipperfield's Veles e Vents (America's Cup Pavilion) in the city's new urban marina

On top of the Torres de Serranos (old city gate)

Vignettes / Metropol Parasol Seville

“The form of this building was inspired by the vaults of Seville’s expansive cathedral – I wanted to create a ‘cathedral without walls’ that would be ‘democratic’ – and also by the handsome trees already in the square.”

— Jürgen Mayer H

Case Study / Casa da Musica

In 1999 the European Union announced that Porto would be selected as one of the two Cultural Capitals of Europe in 2001 (along with Rotterdam), leading the Minister of Culture and the city to develop ‘Porto 2001’, an organization setup to initiate and produce different urban and cultural interventions within the city limits. In light of this event, a restrictive design competition was established by city officials, inviting five international architectural practices to develop a new concert hall and create a ‘symbol’ of the city to be positioned in the historical center of Porto - the Rotunda da Boavista. The new project - The Casa da Musica - was meant to be the big attraction of Porto’s cultural year, but the tight 3-year construction schedule and a prolonged planning process made organizers realize it would be nearly impossible to meet the 2001 opening deadline. Neverless, Rem Koolhaas (OMA) would win the hurried design competition (with two firms not even meeting the deadline submission), proudly recycling an unrealized scheme from his office that was originally conceived as a Nigerian residence turned into a grand concert hall for Portugal’s second city in under two weeks - indicating the unstable and waning relationship between form and function in contemporary architectural thought. Ultimately, the design was preferred for its ability to connect with a much more diverse audience - proposing an adventurous curriculum that included a highly flexible chamber music hall, a cyber-music hall, teaching spaces for children and a multimedia production area - aimed to attract not only the concert-going persuasion, but the rest of the city as well.

Casa da Musica  /  Site Diagram — Casa da Musica / Site Diagram

The stairs from the ground-level plaza to the main foyer

This is clear upon arrival to the completed project, finally finished in 2005 after lengthy negotiations with a myriad of city organizations. The new Concert Hall sits in sculptural solitary, posed in a public plaza of its own creation beside the historic circular Boavista park, punctuated by large windows that overlook public gatherings below. Skateboarders, loitering teenagers, dining businessmen, international tourists, smoking concertgoers (to name a few) - all congregate on the plaza in front of the faceted form, creating a beehive-like effect of activity both inside and out. The building stands on the site of a former trolley yard in a transitional neighborhood between old and new models of the city, connecting the intact historic 19th-century urban core with a new sprawling financial sector toward the Atlantic Ocean by way of a grand avenue (Avenue da Boavista). The new plaza, organically paved in a rusty Jordanian travertine, is an exposed and fluid counterpoint to the rigid angles of the obscure concert hall as it rises up at two corners for entry to both the underground parking and cafe/information kiosk areas. The project becomes an autonomous response, both architecturally and urbanistically, to its charged location and achieves to mediate a fresh relationship between different metropolitan contingents.

“With this concept, issues of symbolism, visibility and access were resolved in one gesture. Through both continuity and contrast, the park on the Rotunda da Boavista, after our intervention, is no longer a mere hinge between the old and the new Porto, but it becomes a positive encounter of two different models of the city.”

— Rem Koolhaas, Architect

Following the completion of the Arrábida Bridge (the largest concrete span bridge in the world at the time) in 1963, a new southern entry point over the Douro River was established in the city, complementing the historic district’s Dom Luís Bridge to the East. The new road bridge was a product of the recently implemented Municipal Master Plan in 1962 - coordinated by French architect Robert Auzelle - to establish a new urban center in the Boavista area to the west of the city. The infiltration of new road traffic to the area strengthened an existing concentration of railroad / tram networks that was established in the late 19th century, based on the French urban design model of large radial urban spaces (roundabouts). At the center of the circular space lies a landscaped and monumentalized park with a memorial obelisk at its center - dedicated to the Peninsular War. The expansion of this infrastructural network has sought to create a western centrality - distinct from the historic ‘Old Town’ to the east - with the area becoming an expansive territory for modern commercial and residential investment (the first shopping center in the city - Brasilia - would open on the Boavista roundabout in 1974) by reason of the economic value of the region near multiple shorelines (Atlantic Ocan and mouth of the Douro River). Today, private initiative has driven the centrality of Boavista (reinforced by the siting of the Casa da Musica in 2005) that extends down an axis toward the sea, enriching the region with private investment while historic parts of the city remain generally dormant.

Exterior Stair  /  Entry — Exterior Stair / Entry

Casa da Musica  /  Floorplan — Casa da Musica / Floorplan

“Most cultural institutions serve only part of a population. A majority knows their exterior shape, only a minority knows what happens inside.”

— Rem Koolhaas, Architect

While the imposing volume seems rather fastened, the Casa da Musica has an unimpeded relationship between the interior and exterior, with the intention to maximize the link with the public realm through direct visual contact - always enticing visitors in relation to their surroundings and offering them a unique view to the city, sea and sky. The dramatic main entry is put on full display in the public plaza, fronted by a steep flight of concrete steps with a theatrical prescience, seemingly discharged from the large angled sliding glass doors recessed in the large mass, conceding a blurred position of institutional arrival and public contemplation. The same is true for the interior approach that strives to break down the barriers of a typical concert hall to achieve a greater connection between the audience and the artist, allowing a succession of open spaces to visually and physically communicate with the central space (the auditorium) - a notion from the unrealized design of OMA’s private house that required a series of separate zones around a common family room. The concept would work for Porto as it broke open the traditionally closed ‘shoebox’ music hall, creating an exchange between old and new, public and private - two samplings of different cities.

The entire volume of the Casa da Musica operates as a condensed urban container with the ability to absorb any amount of programmatic chaos that the city offers. The main auditorium lays calmly at the heart of the building’s structure, defined by a series of warped spaces and twisting runs of stairs that tunnel through the mass, creating key programmatic elements that seem to processionally erode from the building’s interior and create a socially charged set of secondary spaces (press room, restaurant, children’s room, electronic room, etc.) that compliment the traditional main performance hall. Public circulation is entwined through these interstitial spaces, past soaring angled structural elements, dramatically lit alcoves, and polychromatic interiors - turning the simple act of moving through the building into an transformative kinetic experience that believes in the ‘crush and bustle’ of the audience before the sense of satisfaction during the event. The main auditorium is introduced in a different way, suspended between two massive parallel walls running the entire length and height of the building, it is a completely soundproof device that is able to be seen throughout the building, but not heard. The hall design itself was chosen as a ‘shoebox’ configuration, one that is safe and time-tested, but requires visual association with the city and introduces large glazed openings to each of the end walls - a feature unheard of in performance halls, along with numerous openings for the surrounding secondary spaces that seem to intrude and hang into the main hall, exposing that blurred programmatic break line so common throughout the entire project.

Case da Musica  /  Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement — Case da Musica / Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement

Context / Porto, Portugal

At the mouth of the Douro River sits the historic hillside city of Porto, home to one of the oldest urban centers (Ribeira district) in southern Europe and the second-largest city in Portugal. A mercantile city at heart, the area is strongely affected by its proximity to the Atlantic Ocean, boasting a variety of architectural and cultural influences that have evolved for over a millennia. Originally founded by the Romans as a administrative and trading center under the name Portus (port), the city has seen a variety of urban development from numerous stylistic periods and militaristic conflicts by successive groups including the Swabians, Visigoths, Normans, and Moors. By the 11th century, the region would firmly be established as part of the Castilian realm after the crusade to drive the Moors out of Portugal and become part of a new kingdom. The first period of expansion would soon follow with the construction of a new town wall protecting the two urban nucleai - the medieval town and harbor area, making the entire city an impenetrable-like fortress, a component whcih can still be felt today.

Porto’s Ribeira District with Clérigos Tower

Boats along the Douro River waterfront in Vila Nova de Gaia

The complexities of the area’s landforms aided in this construction with a variety of buildings/walls built into the cliff faces that overlook the river, creating a maze of steep stairs and narrow cobbled streets that cut into the stone itself and run up and down the cliff. Today, the Ribeira Dirctict (a World Heritage site by UNESCO) still remains intact with a mixture of Roman ruins, medieval relics, soaring bell towers, extravagant baroque churches and venerable town houses piled ontop of one another, while a renewed infastructural system and cultural resurgance has the young and contemporary inhabitants moving from the banks of the river and into the city’s new sprawling cosmopolitan suburbs by the sea. Across the river, in the suburb of Gaia, the birthplace of port wine is evident in nearby Vila Nova de Gaia with numerous riverside wine caves jockeying for attention offering tastings and entertainment, becoming a popular nightlife district - leading to the city’s well-known marketing phrase “You’ve tried the wine; now try the city”. The growing cosmopolitan city has perplexed those outsde of Porto, who considered the city to be more inelegant and working class than the rest of the country, likely due to the area’s long dominate mercantile history and lack of noble prescience, unlike its sister city to the South - Lisbon. However, while proudly Portuguese, the city holds itself apart from the rest of the country, knowing justifibly they are the economic heart of the nation with a higher sense of international culture and values.

Porto's Ribeira Waterfront along the Douro river

Azulejo - popular Portuguese painted ceramic tilework

Case Study / City of Culture

During the mid-1990s - a period of rapid regional competition in Spain with the planning of the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao and Valencia opening construction on the City of Science and Art - city officials determined Galicia needed to join this cultural arms race and promote the region’s illustrious heritage to the world. In 1999 an international architectural competition was initiated to create a new 1 million-square-foot cultural complex from a list of eleven finalists submitting proposals, all focusing on a beautiful hillside site (Monte Gaiás) overlooking Santiago de Compostela to plan the new ‘City of Culture’. Organizers acknowledged the proposed project would be a new place of pilgrimage toward a 'city of knowledge and creativity', a dynamic addition to a region with a 1,200 year tradition of spiritual passage. The proposal from New York architect Peter Eisenman would eventually be chosen with a scheme embodying an extensive topographical architecture that would relate to the neighboring granite hillsides - an acknowledgment to both an immense building program and the surrounding Galician landscape. The resulting uniquelly-organic design from Eisenman is derived from a condensation of multiple patterns - first from the pilgrim routes that run through the medieval ‘Old Town’ city center of Santiago overlaid on a topographic map of the hillside site. Then, a geometric Cartesian grid superimposed onto the site diagram and extruded using new computer modeling software to create a deformed topographic surface that ripples in the landscape, incorporating old and new contexts into a singular building matrix. The composed massings can seem to have both a smooth and striated tactile quality, a likeness to the symbolic seashell that has defined the city and its history for centuries.

Model exposing the connection between Old Town and the City of Culture

Walking through the City of Culture site, one realizes the figure-ground urbanism of the original medieval city center is superseded to the project’s emerging deformed grid with sinuous surfaces that are neither figure nor ground, but read as one continuous stone-clad architectural composition. The interstitial space between buildings is a familiar presence found in a new form with narrow pedestrian ‘streets’, carved and affected by its relationship to immediate building adjacencies, all emptying out onto a public plaza overlooking the inspiring Santiago skyline. The entire complex celebrates a regionalist expression with local hand-quarried quartzite (in brown, rose, and off-white hues) cladding all the walls and roofs in 20-inch blocks, proving to be hard for quarries to meet demand.

Although Eisenman’s proposal called for eight buildings, today the entire complex is conceived as three pairs of buildings (totaling six buildings in three construction phases), with the Library of Galicia (186,990 sqft) and Galician Archives (155,205 sqft) opened in 2011, followed a year later by the completion of the Museum of Galicia (223,889 sqft) and Central Services Building (80,729 sqft). The remaining two structures, the International Art Center and Center for Music and Performing Arts, are currently non-entities with uncertain futures that operate as two glaring holes in the site due to cost overruns, creating a lightning rod for debate.

It is too early to fully evaluate a complex that is still unfinished, although it has already become a focal point for debate regarding high cost, excessive space, and an ambiguous program. Initially, the brief for the project called for a six-building complex on a 7 million sqft (160 acre) site for a budget of just around $145 million. Expectations were high when the project was launched during the economic ‘boom years’ and competition was fierce (Guggenheim opened years earlier to much international acclaim). 12 years later, under the cloud of the ‘Great Recession’, the first two phases of the City of Culture would be completed at a budget far exceeding expectations ($385 million). Critics would soon unleash their frustration at the entire project, saying it became a symbol of government’s inappropriate spending during one of the worst financial periods in the country’s history (20% unemployment and 9% budget deficit). Meanwhile, the construction of the final two buildings (the Center for Performing Arts and Arts Center) had yet to be started, being continuously delayed due to the economic downturn (along with all building activity in Spain). Of the two buildings, the Performing Arts Center was to be the ‘jewel’ of the complex, planned as the largest building in the complex at 137 feet high and housing over 2000 seats to promote Galicia to the musical and performing arts world. In 2013, with large construction expenditures for the arts not a high political priority and a Spanish economy showing no sign of improvement, the regional governor of Galicia supported a motion to “definitively” stop construction work on the complex, which would need another $228 million to finish. Currently, the City of Culture, Galicia’s answer to Bilbao, is little more than four large under-capacity buildings adjacent to two big holes in the ground. Last year, 330,000 would visit the Galician site that craved so much attention, compared to over a million visitors for Bilbao’s Guggenheim during the same period. It is an unfortunate result of bad economic timing and high (maybe unrealistic) ambitions that have halted this monumental task, but though still unfinished, it creates a pure architectural landscape that is unique in the world and can been seen as a serious investment to the region of Galicia.

“Instead of the ground’s being conceived as a backdrop against which the buildings stand out as figures, we generate a condition in which the ground can rear up to become figure, the buildings can subside into ground. It is a new kind of urban fabric”

— Peter Eisenman, Architect

City of Culture  /  Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement — City of Culture / Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement

Context / Santiago De Compostela, Spain

Primarily associated with one of the major themes of medieval history, the city of Santiago de Compostela receives over 100,000 pilgrims a year by way of a thousand-year-old Christian pilgrimage (Camino de Santiago) to the shrine of St. James in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. Donning the scallop shell (a symbol of the pilgrimage route) and a wooden walking staff, these visitors in search of spiritual significance travelled from across Europe (and the world) to the Galician sanctuary in Northwest Spain to worship at the believed burial site of Saint James, one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus Christ. The route - considered one of the most important and well-travelled Christian pilgrimages in medieval Europe (along with Rome and Jerusalem) - brought notoriety and monumental riches to this small city for centuries. However, by the end of the Middle Ages, the area would succumb to squabbling noble rivalry, the Black Death pandemic, Protestant Reformation and European political unrest, leading to a sharp decline in prominence for centuries.

The city would continue its misfortune in the 19th century with the invasion of the French during the Napoleonic War and a fascist take-over during the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s. After the Spanish Transition (1975) - when democratic rule was restored to the country - Santiago de Compostela was declared capital city of the autonomous region of Galicia. Since the 1980s, the small city (around 100,000 residents) has been rediscovered as a tourist and pilgrimage destination, revitalizing the city’s economic and cultural prowess year by year. In 1985 the Old Town of the city, including the cathedral and Praza do Obradoiro, was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The center of the city - defined by an extraordinary ensemble of Romanesque and Baroque monuments organized around a sacred tomb fought over by empires for centuries and the destination of all the roads of Christianity’s greatest pilgrimage - has maintained its monumental integrity that overflows with history and value, kept intact for future generations of visitors and scholars to take notice.

Case Study / Guggenheim Museum Bilbao

From the moment Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum was unveiled along the banks of the Nervión river in 1997, the term “Bilbao Effect” emerged as a battle cry from civic leaders, architects and city planners intent on revitalizing dilapidated city centers and elevating their status in a competitive global market. In fact, there was reason for elated optimism, as market research showed Gehry’s new building bringing an extra 3 million visitors to the city each year, with additional tax revenue and corporate sponsorship invading the flourishing post-industrial region. However, the success of the project would not rely on a single object, but on an inspiring urban strategy that cleared the city’s waterfront of old shipbuilding industries and introduced accessible green space that was capable of hosting popular city activities and attractions throughout the year. The city, eager for a museum to compliment the region, gave the Guggenheim foundation complete control of the project throughout the process. The result was an efficient, yet impressive construction. Nevertheless, it was obvious to the media and aspiring cities that the “Icon” resulted in the sudden fortune of Bilbao, elevating an emerging cultural industry in architecture that relies on the shock of iconographic structures for supremacy in a global market.

“At some point, when it was becoming clear that the Alhondiga was not going to work as a site, there was this moment when I had this epiphany ... I went past the Bellas Artes Museum and then crossed this bridge to the university ... ran down to the opera house (Teatro Arriaga) and realized that this was, in fact, what I called the geocultural triangle of Bilbao. The fact that the waterfront was in the middle of it at this point was only coincidental.”

— Thomas Krens, Director of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation

Over fifteen years have passed since Bilbao grabbed headlines from all over the world. In those years, the population of urban centers around the world began to exceed those of rural areas and the tourism industry was surging with no sign of abating, leading to an assortment of cities to invest heavily in their cultural infrastructure during the economic ‘boom years’. This initiative was spearheaded by substantial performing-arts complexes (theaters, concert halls and opera houses) and lead to a total metamorphic shift in the live-art industry with efforts to combat inclusion, globalization and a dwindling audience. Now, architects were forced to balance between civic responsibility and a new form of city-branding, with politicians overwhelmingly focused on the latter. After the global financial meltdown in 2008, many of these major cultural projects (some still in construction) - combined with government mismanagement and poor attendance - resulted in intense public scrutiny and questioned the foundation of this surging iconography in architecture. This study will focus on the characteristics and campaigns for new performance architecture in a post-Bilbao environment, with an emphasis on geographically-condensed regions in Europe that traditionally have had regionalist building attitudes.

Case Study / Grand Canal Theater

Comprising of 1,300 acres of land, the Dublin Docklands Development Area represents the Eastern territory of both the north and south banks of the river Liffey , the city’s geographical gateway to the Irish Sea and the rest of the world. Historically, the area suffered from little contact between the communties on both sides of the river, as the O’Connell Bridge was one of the only physical crossing-points until the late 19th century, forcing people to rely mainly on Liffey ferries to cross downstream. The south bank (Ringsend) would later develop into a prosperious port area, driving people and businesses steadily into the Docklands with prospects of jobs and undeveloped land. To this day, the area remains Ireland’s largest sea port, with nearly two-thirds of the country’s port traffic going through Dublin Port. During the mid-1990s, an economic boom would bring top international tech giants to the city and begin establishing headquarters in the area, creating an intense demand on the city’s limited housing stock. In 1997 the Dublin Docklands Development Authority Act was created to responsibilly generate a physical, social and economic regeneration in the East side of Dublin. The plan would transform the district into an extension of the city that would not only be the base for business and culture, but also a vibrant residential hub of 22,000 people who might otherwise move to the suburbs. The central core of the Docklands area, a toxic brownfield from a dormant gas production industry, would be transformed into a catalytic centerpiece of the new development called the Grand Canal Square, signalling the rebirth of the district and announce the Docklands as a new destination in the city.

The extent of the 1300-acre Dublin Docklands Development Project (red), with the Grand Canal Dock (GCD) planning area (yellow). The site of the Grand Canal Theatre is indicated.

The Dublin Docklands area has historically been an important part of the city of Dublin, but it has always been a difficult place to establish an alliance between industry and urban livelihood. The proposed redevelopment of the area would need an identity that would be immmediately recognizable and associated with the place. That event would occur at the central core of the Docklands area, called Grand Canal Square, named after the historic Grand Canal that had connected trade cargo from Dublin to the River Shannon. The construction of the new square would be implemented months, and in some cases, even years before the rest of the Docklands development, in order to attract investment and excitement to the transforming neighborhood. At the heart of the new construction lies the Grand Canal Square Theatre, a structure that becomes the main facade of the large public piazza, framed by a five star hotel and residences on one side and an office building on the other. Architect Daniel Libeskind would be selected to lead a group of designers and engineers to complete the theatre with the concept to build a cultural presence on the site by sculpting expressionistic glass volumes to convey a fluid and open public dialogue with the cultural, commercial and residential surroundings, while presenting various programmatic forces essential to the Theatre’s operation. The faceted entrance facade acts as a theatre curtain, projecting the ‘stages’ of the building’s multiple level theatre lobby onto the projected public piazza, creating an active visual edge onto a dynamic civic space. The dynamic volumes and large geometric structural ribs can also be said to evoke imagery of the docklad area as a composition of rippled water with protruding ‘ribs’ of wooden piers.

Calatrava’s Samuel Beckett Bridge crossing the River Liffey in Dublin’s Docklands area

Looking down Chimney View toward Grand Canal Theatre

The Grand Canal Theatre is integrated into the planned commercial development of the Docklands by twin office buildings designed by Libeskind, flanking the theatre to the north and south and containing almost 500,000 square feet of leasable office and retail space. Like the Theatre, the office buildings provide multi-story glazed atriums with similar facade articulations, visually integrating the buildings with adjacnt retail, cultural and public space components. South Block and North Block, as the twin offices are named, help reinforce the boundary of the new urban square and form a theatrical gateway to Dublin Harbor.

Libeskind’s design for the Grand Canal Theater delivered a clear and compelling aesthetic to the newly-formed district, so rather than confront it with a conflicting language the designers of Grand Canal Sqaure (Martha Schwartz Partners) embraced the angularity of the entry facade down to the ground plane, uniting the building and landscape into one larger compostion with a singular identity. The piazza compliments the interiority of the Theater, acting as a grand outdoor lobby, itself becoming a stage for civic gathering with the dramatic theatre elevation as a backdrop offering platforms for viewing. Most notably, is the fragmented paving pattern across the entire open space, with sharp lines seemingly continuing off the building’s architecture, creating a varied networks of paths that reach out into the surrounding context to attract people into and through the new plaza.

Site plan of Martha Schwartz Partners' design for Grand Canal Square

“The initial focus in people’s minds was on development and on the buildings, but no matter what the quality of the individual buildings, people’s overwhelming sense of place was going to be determined by that public space and the public realm of the wider district.”

— Martha Schwartz

In a bold statement, the designers created a ‘red carpet’ that cuts across though the square and up to the theater’s entrance, signaling that the “theater is open to the world”. The other end of the carpet extends out over the canal to the west, inviting visitors to connect with the waterfront and the Dockland area. This move is further emphasized with 23-foot high red light poles angled out of the surface of the square, enabling color and energy to an otherwise colorless landscape (parking garage below limits much vegetation growth). The light poles serve to soften the hardscape while breaking down the scale shift between the Theater and the expansive ground plane. The composition of both the square and Theater creates a dynamic urban gathering space, one defined by visual relationships, connection points and porous infastructure. It is a performance space both inside and out.

“The concept….is to build a powerful cultural presence expressed in a dynamic volume. This volume is sculpted to express the various forces which create the urban piazza, the public space and inner workings of the theatre. This composition creates an icon that mirrors the joy and drama emblematic of Dublin itself.”

— Daniel Libeskind, Architect

Grand Canal Theater  /  Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement — Grand Canal Theater / Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement

Ireland / Absorption into the Landscape

Referencing architect Sarah Lappin, a common practice for many designers in Ireland is an absorption of the landscape, both with built and unbuilt work. Lavished as the country with ‘a million shades of green’, much has been written about the beauty of Ireland, and an effort to re-create ‘civilized’ work from centuries of European artists, musicians, and poets will not be attempted here. Instead, the people of this island nation - historically battered economically and politically for centuries - find guidance and an untroubled expression in their natural surroundings. But, to understand the Irish landscape is to comprehend a battered coastline of cliffs, rolling farmland, bleak hillsides of fissured limestone pavement, vast peat bog lands and the northern light that continuously affect a reading of them. The commonality that threads all these juxtaposed conditions is a landscape that is permeated by water, whether through its proximity to the coastline or to lakes, rivers, bogs and marshlands, and it is the way that precipitation moves through and over the ground that determines the visual form of the environment.

Limestone perimeter wall around farmland

Context / Dublin, Ireland

Neatly divided by the Liffey River, the capital city of the Republic of Ireland has had a recurrent history of both opulence and hardship. Originally established as a Viking settlement in the 9th century, the British crown would claim sovereignty over the area following a Norman invasion centuries later, establishing the major defensive work of Dublin Castle as the center of English power for 700 years. Dublin would immediately prosper under new English control as a major trade area and become center of administrative rule in Ireland, leading to such prominent establishments as Trinity College, Ireland's oldest university. By the 17th and 18th centuries, Dublin had grown to the second largest city in the British Empire (5th in Europe) and during this period is when a vast majority of the city's most notable architecture and famous urban districts were developed. However, by the time of the Industrial Revolution, Dublin was seen to play no part in the historical movement, due to the passage of the Act of Union in 1800 that would transfer the city's seat of government to Westminster Parliament in London, leading to a period of economic and political decline. The Great Famine in the 1840s would make things worse, leading to a million deaths and over a million more emigrated to escape it, with over half of all immigrants to the United States from Ireland. The population of Ireland would not recover from that period, never returning to its 1840s level (8.2 million) since. The 20th century saw the rise of modern Irish nationalism and the 'Easter Rising' of 1916, which would led to an Irish Civil War resulting in significant amount of damage to Dublin's city center and the ascension of an independent Ireland.

At first glance, modern Dublin can be characterized by its simplicity and informality, living off a Georgian Dublin aesthetic from the heyday of centuries past. Most buildings entail large proportions or grand spaces, but with little extraneous adornment, a much simpler model to the decadence of their European neighbors, which has much to do with the country's long run of economic constraints over simplistic design intentions. But what Dublin lacks in architectural ambitions, makes up for in civic vibrancy. Looking south of the River Liffey, you will find the bustling redeveloped district of Temple Bar, academic exuberance of Trinity College and, just below it, the pedestrianized shopping area of Grafton Street, leading to the city's St. Stephen's Green (the city center's largest park). Move north, over the river, along the major north-south traffic thoroughfare of O'Connell Street and you encounter an urban context that is more monumentalized and sterile, with numerous government institutions and high-end shopping centers. The most notable instance in the area is the Monument of Light, the tallest structure in Dublin, which denotes the intersection of two important streets: A major north-south traffic thoroughfare of O'Connell Street and the main pedestrian shopping area of Henry Street.

Aviva Stadium in Dublin's Ballsbridge area, designed by Populous (formerly HOK Sport)

In the 1990s and 2000s, fortunes for the island nation were about to turn from bleak to incredibly opportunistic, as suddenly the Irish were among the richest people in Europe with a booming economy. Politicians and property developers were anxious to take advantage of the positive economic landscape, adding much needed modernization to Dublin's architectural scene. Most of the focus was on the East side of Dublin, where high-profile projects such as the Dublin Docklands city quarter and the new Aviva Stadium were completed. Architectural historian Jean-Louis Cohen, writing in 2001 in the midst of economic prosperity, saw a tension between the booming Irish economy and the aspirations of architects who espoused critical regionalism in the late eighties and early nineties. He calls the approach of contemporary Irish architects “critical internationalism”. This approach allows for “research for a local specificity” while not precluding “a series of cross positions defining a common intellectual space. The increasingly international character of capital, clients, and uses in Ireland allows – perhaps forces – a direct connection to architectures happening throughout the world and in Europe especially." It had been decades since Dublin had seen this much construction and development. Now that Ireland went from an economic high to a disastrous low....again, the country can reflect on the impact of this new society and architecture, letting the projects mature and see if they can truey be expressive of 'an Irishness' in built form.

Case Study / Kulturhuset (The House of Culture)

During the 20th century, the population of Stockholm had exploded and the city center was no longer able to facilitate the rapid growth. With the controversial City Plan of 1946, a radical modernization project was launched to transform the old Norrmalm district of the inner city into the new modern heart of Stockholm - creating new underground metro networks, wider traffic infrastructure and new high-rise developments, at the cost of extensive and unpopular demolitions that had plagued the city through the 1950s. The new district that had emerged consisted largely of modern commercial buildings and business activities, including the Hötorget office and commercial center that had been directly inspired by emerging modernist projects such as the Lever House in New York City. The new commercial district would form around the heart of the reconstruction - a new large square, referred to as Sergels Torg, which addressed the city's continuously increasing traffic loads and the concept of separating pedestrian and car traffic, with a new sunken pedestrian plaza (the Plattan) connecting the city's popular pedestrian shopping street of Drottninggatan with the new infrastructure and commercial developments.

Consequently, to counteract the commercialism of the inner city redevelopment, the Municipality of Stockholm in association with Pontus Hultén, the influential founder of Moderna Museet, launched an architectural competition in 1965 to create a cultural center within Sergels Torg. The competition's brief asked to create a cultural institution with heavy urban and national implications, including such programs as theatres, galleries, cultural activities, and premises for the central bank of Sweden. The winning entry entitled 'Kulturhuset' was proposed by Peter Celsing, the chief architect of the Stockholm Tramways and a leader in the city's modernist movement. At a time when city redevelopment was becoming increasingly unpopular in public opinion, the project sought to rationalize and humanize large-scale construction by creating an 'open shelf', transparent multi-purpose building in which visible interior functions take the place of traditional ornament, allowing the institutional building to have an atmosphere of the street coupled with the possibilities of a cultural workshop.

Sergels Torg's sunken pedestrian plaza articulated with a triangular pattern, referred to as "The Slab"

Pedestrian avenue through the Hötorget Office and Commercial Center toward Sergels torg

SL Tram at Sergels torgIn 1974, the Center would be constructed to the south of Sergels Torg according to the proposed competition scheme, realizing an accessible seven-story shelf unit mounted on a solid concrete wall, deemed as a "cultural living room". The Swedish Parliament (the Riksdag) had decided several years before on changes to the parliament building, as a result of the abolition of the upper house. With the withdrawl of Moderna Museet's future expansion, half of the Kulturhuset would then be intended as a temporary Parliament Building while the original on Helgeandsholmen island was being remodeled into a one-House legislature. What was intended to be the major stage of the City Theatre was rapidly transformed into a main governing chamber and with the state government as a future tenant, the building’s finances were on a safe footing during the development of the project.

Following the completion of the Cultural Center, two additions would soon follow. As the commercial limb of the Bank/City Theater/Cultural Center complex, the Bank of Sweden turns its back on the unifying concrete wall of the Cultural Center and presents an impervious, grid-like granite façade towards Brunkeberg Square and the city's old town. Directly west to the bank, the city theatre is assimilated into the existing urban fabric, while the other two elements stand out as objectified, representative buildings. The complex closes the main north-south axis of the city, and is sited on the historical boundary between the old town and the nineteenth-century commercial district. Celsing preserved this distinction by attaching the bank and the cultural centre to opposite sides of a thick ‘service’ wall, which symbolically represents the ancient city wall.

Underground commercial mall east of the pedestrian plaza underneath a fountain roundabout

Pedestrian passage through the Kulturhuset toward Brunkeberg Square

The concept of Kulturhuset represented a new architectural ideology rising in Sweden, closely identified with the social reform movement of the early twentieth-century. However, by the date of completion, the period large housing projects in Stockholm and Sweden, including the large-scale brutal redevelopment of the civic center, were brought to an end. Protests against slum-clearance policies implemented without the consent of the public reached a culmination with the so-called "Battle of the Elms" in 1971. Kulturhuset would become the controversial figurehead to the public unrest, but the architectural composition would be sufficiently robust to survive both a tough childhood and confused adolescence by strength in functional performance. And now after thirty-eight years, the building has been taken back by the public - a department store for culture - with the openness and generosity of Sergels Torg, exposure of cultural activities outward to the square, and connective tissue to a layered shopping mecca, making its presence significantly felt in the modern center of the city.

“I am building for a new human being who has to come”

— Peter Celsing, architect

Diagram: Analysis of site access and movement, new development, and points of social engagement

The Royal Dramatic Theatre (Dramaten)

Since 1909, The Royal Dramatic Theatre has been the national home for the dramatic arts - sited in a popular public space in central Stockholm called Nybroplan ('New Bridge Square'), which faces the Nybroviken waterfront and connects a number of major urban throughfares in the city. The Art Nouveau / Neo-Baroque building was designed by Swedish architect Fredrik Lilljekvist that, at the time of construction, was criticized for being too ornate for the Scandinavian city and excessively over budget.

View of the Dramaten from the busy Lebanon Meza (Street)

On the Stairs of the Royal Dramatic Theatre

Down the pedestrian-friendly Nybrogatan (Along the Dramaten)

Berzelii Park (Across from the Dramaten)

The Royal Swedish Opera (KUNGLIGA OPERAN)

The Royal Opera House from the Norrstrom river

The first opera house in Stockholm would open in 1782, located in the center of Sweden's capital city in the Norrmalm district of the city between Gustav Adolfs torg (city square) and the Kungsan (King's Garden) - adjacent to the Royal Palace and along the Norrstrom river. The original opera house, now known as the Gustavian Opera, was the work of architect Carl Fredrik Adelcrantz and commissioned by King Gustav III (who would later be assassinated in the same building ten years later). The opera house would serve the city for a little more than a century before being demolished and replaced at the end of the 19th century (1899) by the present Royal Opera House (Kungliga Operan), also known as the Oscarian Opera. The Operan would be Swedish architect Axel Johan Anderberg's first big commission (1889-1898) that utilized parts of the old opera foundations and left the main entrance on the square. The fairly traditional, quasi-neo-baroque architecture would utilize Swedish granite and Limestone at the exterior of the street level with rose-tinted stucco above - keeping a strong axial relationship in line with the main entrance.

Royal Opera House from Kungsan (King's Garden)

Context / Stockholm, Sweden

As a metropolitan area that stands on 14 interlocking islands; a mosaic-like topography of land, lake and waterway stitched together by 50 uniquely-designed bridges, it's hard to imagine any other city that makes better use of its natural assets than Stockholm. The vibrant urban environment has long been the capital and most populous city of Sweden, the largest of the Scandinavian nations. Lying on the country's east coast, the capital city is home to almost a quarter of the nation's population, constituting it as the most populated urban area in Scandinavia. However, for all its size, Stockholm seems to merge urban construction and wide-open rural elements in a way that benefits the people at a human scale. In the entire metropolitan area, over 30% of the city is made up of waterways and another 30% is made up of park spaces, leaving a small area for growth, developing a dense and efficient infrastructural system for urban construction. More importantly, history plays an important role in the civic expression - grand pedestrian boulevards, immense civic structures, extensive park spaces and continuously treaded waterfronts - all enforce the sense of romantic expressionism to Sweden's rise as a major European power in the 17th century, both culturally and politically.

Gamla Stan's waterfront

The Royal Palace (right) and Cathedral of Stockholm (left)

Gamla Stan (referred to as the 'Old Town') is Stockholm's oldest district, site of the Royal Palace and Parliament House, and origin to the city's urban growth. It lies at the heart of the historic city, standing on a strategically situated island in the middle of the narrow bottleneck channel between the salty Baltic Sea and the inland freshwater lake of Malaren, the third largest lake in Sweden. As a fortified merchant town during the thirteenth century, both north-south trade routes by land and the east-west routes by sea could be controlled, developing strong economic and cultural linkages with other cities. Today, Gamla Stan is not regarded as a perfectly preserved medieval townscape, but the island nature of the settlement, its small area and its crowded layout have spared Gamla Stan from too much modernization. What remains today is an enclave of colorful old stone buildings dating from the 15th to the 18th centuries. You can wander at will through the Old Town without getting lost, as you are never far from the waterside or a bridge to re-orient yourself.

Erik Gunnar Asplund's Stockholm Library

Ragnar Östberg's Stockholm City Hall

Stockholm Waterfront Congress Centre by White Arkitekter

In the early 20th century, a nationalistic push spurred new architectural expressions in the city inspired by medieval and renaissance ancestry that would lead to an emphasis in modernist construction, characterizing the new language and development of the city until today. An example, north of Gamla Stan is Norrmalm, the business and commercial district. This is the heart of the modern city – glass, steel, and concrete, along with a clear Swedish design ideology - all present throughout the area with a cityscape of towering glass buildings, emphatic shopping malls, busy streets and traffic-free concourses that satisfy the demands of both vehicles and pedestrians. Simultaneously, the city's industrial and economic aspirations had grown at the beginning of the century, drastically transforming the city into an important service center and increasing the urban population through immense immigration, making less than 40% of the city residents Stockholm-born. The population boom led city officials' attention toward a growing housing shortage, with new aesthetic ideals developing in architecture that promoted a new modern functionalist form adopted from mass-production construction. With the introduction of the Stockholm metro in 1950, new state-subsidized suburban housing developments would continue to sprout up around the city like a string of pearls along the transit lines. Many of these areas would later be criticized for functionalist planning ideals - dull, unattractive, unsafe - built mainly out of concrete construction. At the same time, the city's inner city was undergoing radical urban renewal plans that sought to adapt increasing vehicular traffic and demands of the modern age, while controversially demolishing large areas of existing properties to make room for new development projects, leading to a segregated population and urban gentrification.

City infrastructure

Looking down Stockholm's Hamngatan street toward Royal Dramatic Theater

The major pedestrian street of Drottninggatan

The planning schemes of modernism were starting to be questioned by public officials by the end of the 20th century. With Danish and other examples as models, a reorientation towards small-scale housing took place, where 'dense and low' became the dominating principle in city planning. In a new plan for Stockholm, the idea of density in urban planning was emphasized with the future expansion of the city, with focus on developing on previously established land, preserving valuable green areas, developing around the edges of the city, and redeveloping older industrial areas into denser urban districts. The development inwards has led many politicians to generally abandon their former difference with regard to high-rise development in the inner city of Stockholm, threatening the city's public perception of well-established architectural unity and low profile nature.

Case Study / Finlandia Park (Finlandia Hall & Helsinki Music Centre)

As a young, war-torn country isolated in northern Europe, Finland began the 20th century as a nation looking for an identity; with the ability to communicate regional cultural values and a nationalistic character, embracing a hostility to all things Russian. A famous nineteenth-century painting by Edward Isto titled 'The Attack' in which a white-gowned young Finnish woman defends her country's law, as an emblem to its independence, against the Russian Eagle, would loom large in the national psyche. The situation would intensify just as a young Alvar Aalto came to Helsinki to study architecture. The city became the epicenter of events that led Finland to declare independence from Russia in 1917, only to be drawn into a civil war the following year, involving pro-western Aalto into numerous battles with pro-eastern forces. The subsequent victory for the independent nation would shape the future of the Finnish cultural community and influence Aalto's nationalistic position on architecture.

Decades later, as a response to the old center of eastern-influenced Senate Square, community leaders were of the opinion that an independent Finland needed a central square of its own in the new, self-proclaimed center of the city around the vicinity of the recently completed Parliament House, a building that symbolizes the status won in 1917. It was a coincidence that right in front of the Parliament there lay a large railway freight yard which was to be resited elsewhere; an older Alvar Aalto thought that this area would provide a unique opportunity for the realization of an idea, originally suggested by Eliel Saarinen after the civil war. By the end of the 1950s, after countless alternative plans were proposed and numerous competitions reviewed, the planning committee would entrust Aalto with the task of formulating a central plan for Helsinki. The resulting master plan, encompassing Helsinki's Töölönlahti bay, proposed a terraced square with a variety of civic buildings placed linearly along the waterfront, partly on ground and partly on water, to allow an open view of the bay through the buildings. The area in front of the Finnish House of Parliament was envisioned as an open central area that acted as a new active center, concentrating the economic and cultural needs of the community, while connecting the eastern and western parts of the city. However, the plan became a piecemeal development under much debate, with only the concert and conference house of Finlandia Hall to see completion, leaving the only building in an imposing position in its relatively natural surroundings. His master plan, first presented in 1961, would never be carried out in its entirety, but Aalto's ideals on a new urban landscape based on a humanistic design approach that enhanced the progressive and democratic nature of the city, would give relevant and realistic possibilities toward the future use of the site.

Map of Helsinki showing Senate Square (blue), new central square around Töölönlahti Bay (red) and supporting civic buildings around the area (purple)

Finlandia Hall

As the only piece to materialize from Alvar Aalto's central Helsinki master plan, Finlandia Hall represents a larger vision for the city; built on democratic values, cultural aspirations and strategic siting. One of the last projects to be overseen by the influential architect, the project was split into two phases, with the concert building constructed in 1967-71, and the conference wing four years later. Finlandia Hall can be viewed as a building with two sides, different in scale and character; one toward the bay (east) and the other toward Hesperia Park and Mannerheimintie street (west). The principle entryway, facing west, is a sculpturally winding facade with expressive and humanist aspirations that is married with the natural settings of Hesperia Park, following Aalto's thinking that one should always enter a building through nature as a singular experience. Conversely, on the 'public side' of the eastern facade, the distinct staircase foyers of the concert building and its terraced lobbies oriented toward Töölönlahti bay create a collective setting for public events, once thought to support a proposed urban landscape as a square for social engagement, completely free from vehicular traffic, unfortunately now faces various degrees of undefined land parcels and an abundance of surface parking. The commonality of the project comes from the building's material expression, as the prevalent use of the white Carrara marble not only becomes a contrasting element to the black granite interior, but more importantly generates an influential link to Mediterranean classicism culture, a move that Aalto believed gave Finland the right to exist in western cultural society.

Western reception portico off the busy street of Mannerheimintie

Finlandia Hall's eastern entry portico and car ramp

Parking lot to the east of Finlandia Hall

Töölönlahti Bay and Hesperia Park

Following the completion of Finlandia Hall and the abandonment of Aalto's proposed axis of public buildings to the north, Hesperia park's importance in the urban fabric would grow as one of the largest and most popular public parks in central Helsinki. Having a symbiotic relationship with Finlandia Hall; a building designed with intentions to preserve the surrounding landscape, the park would encourage a refuge for pedestrians to be led away from the narrow sidewalks of traffic-heavy Mannerheimintie road, creating a much larger area for exploitation of pedestrian traffic. The surrounding area of Töölönlahti Bay would be left almost untouched up to the end of the 20th century, acting as a natural threshold between the city center to the south and numerous civic developments around the area, including the 1952 Olympic Stadium complex, Linnanmäki amusement park, Helsinki City Theatre, Finnish Museum of Natural History and Aalto's House of Culture. However, in 1993 a new Opera House would be built on the site, flanking Hesperia Park to the north and providing the Finnish National Opera and the city of Helsinki with a state-of-the-art facility. The completion and success of the Finnish National Opera House would put into motion something that Finlandia Hall and Alvar Aalto started years earlier; a strong pedestrian-oriented cultural center for the city. Five years later, the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma would open on the southernmost site of Töölönlahti Bay based on an incremental planning process. Designed by Steven Holl Architects, the building was envisioned as an element that would dovetail with the urban structure of the city as well as with the natural environment of the park's surrounding landscape, creating a linear progression of major cultural institutions along Mannerheimintie road and a foundation for a more ambitious development plan.

Pedestrian paths along the shores of Töölönlahti bay

View of Kiasma contemporary art museum from the north

Töölönlahti Redevelopment & Finlandia Hall Renovation

The Töölönlahti area would become among the most prominent regions in the Helsinki city centre by the start of the new millennium. As a former state railyard, flanked by Helsinki's central train station and Parliament House, the southern section of the site offered city officials the land and the potential for a new dynamic urban square, embracing the cultural and recreational attitude that has evolved in the area for years. The new master plan, developed by the City of Helsinki, calls on Töölönlahti Bay to become what Alvar Aalto and his fellow compatriots once envisioned for the city, an utopian centre of cultural activity and a "living room" for the Helsinki people. Energetically refered to as Finlandia Park, the new development will grow from a southern extension of the bay, from its present shorelines to behind Finlandia Hall, with a shallow water element further extending all the way to Kiasma. A new concert hall is introduced across from the Parliament House, further enforcing a cultural presence along Mannerheimintie road, while new residential and commercial blocks are planned on the eastern perimeter, acting as an urban wall between the city's rail system and the proposed park. Public congregation and movement would therefore be seen in the plan's central axis, along the park's new shoreline, further enforced by a oval-shaped dance pavilion and the new Helsinki central library. After the completion of the new concert hall (Helsinki Music Centre) in 2011, Finlandia Hall is now undergoing most of the work in the area with an expansion/renovation to adapt the Hall to its new role in the site. Plans are to remove the car ramp and parking area from the building's eastern side, facing Töölönlahti Bay, leaving room for pedestrian use and accommodate a terraced café, which will be open to the public apart from serving Finlandia Hall’s functions. The parking spaces, which now occupy the back of Finlandia Hall, will be moved to a new underground parking facility that will serve all nearby buildings, effectively freeing the ground plane for more pedestrian-oriented activities. Within the next decade, it will be interesting to notice that some of Aalto's then too utopian ideas for central Helsinki will finally be realized – 35 years after his death.

The conceptual site plan illustration for Finlandia Park, provided by Helsinki City Planning Department

Rendering of Finlandia Park from the north, with Finlandia Hall on the right. Image from Helsinki City Planning Department

Helsinki Music Centre

Since its completion in 1971, Finlandia Hall has served as Helsinki’s main classical music concert venue. Unfortunately, persistent acoustic problems would plague Aalto's acclaimed building, making it out to be more of a conference venue than a concert hall. Moreover, despite repeated and persistent efforts spanning the past century, Helsinki has never had a true orchestral concert hall specifically designed and intended for the performance of symphonic music. However, after the much-debated detailed town plan for the Töölönlahti Bay area was accepted in 2002, an architectural competition was announced for a new Music Hall that would reinforce the new component master plan. The Helsinki City Board chose a site located in front of the Parliament House, a site that was historically valuable, loaded with symbolism and ultimately controversial as demonstrations would develop in support of the existing structures in the area, leading to a mysterious fire that would ultimately destroy everything on the site.

The winner of the competition, entitled ‘a mezza voce' (with moderate volume) by LPR Architects, was the most subtle, influenced by a fundamental Finnish appearance with an authentic choice of materials and a composition that pays homage to Functionalist design. Ideally, the project sought to be open and accessible to its environment, but it would ultimately be limited by its location. Because of the tight restrictions of the master plan concerning building height in the proximity of the Parliament House, a large part of the program is squeezed underground so that it almost seems to be bowing down to its surroundings. Following the completion of the Music Centre, Kiasma Park would soon follow, creating a terraced 'wedge' landscape that connects the new theater to Kiasma museum and, ultimately, to the future develop of Finlandia Park. Finlandia Hall would change as well, as most performances have now moved to the Music Centre, focus is more on its other role as a congress centre, serving as a venue for government events, trade fairs and exhibitions.

Interior view of the Helsinki Music Centre, looking to the north over the theater cafe

View of northern entry to Helsinki Music Centre

Kiasma Park from the south, with Parliament House (left) and Helsinki Music Centre (right)

Kiasma Park - Looking west toward Parliament House — Kiasma Park - Looking west toward Parliament House

The Planning of Töölönlahti Bay area is a story with two distinct chapters. One believed in a harmonic, but comprehensive plan dictated by the natural surrounding of the Finnish Landscape. The other, an incremental approach to planning through competitions, eventually formalizing a binding master plan around an artificial landscape. Both, Finlandia Hall and the Helsinki Music Centre, can be said to represent these two different sides of Helsinki's cultural center, although each share the importance in creating a civic environment based on a Finnish geo-political aspiration. It is hard to say how successful Helsinki's proclaimed 'Finlandia Park' will be, in terms of civic engagement and urban aspirations, as construction continues to take over the historic rail yard. But, the power lies in the inclusion of residential/commercial components, along with programmatic-led events, that encourage a diverse undertaking in combination with the Finnish nature ideology to create the assumed role of Töölönlahti Bay as the new monumental center for the country.

Site Diagram  /  Core of pedestrian site approach and movement — Site Diagram / Core of pedestrian site approach and movement

“In the days before printing, people needed - as symbols of their spiritual aspirations and to fulfill their longing for beauty - large and, above all, beautiful buildings. Temples, cathedrals, forums, theatres and palaces communicated history with greater clarity and sensitivity than old rolls of parchment ever could.”

— Alvar Aalto, architect

Finlandia Park  /  Royal Opera House  /  Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement — Finlandia Park / Royal Opera House / Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement

The Finnish National Theater

View of the Finnish National Theatre from Railway Square and statue of Finnish writer Aleksis Kivi

Located in central Helsinki on the northern side of Rautatientori (Railway Square), the Finnish National Theatre was completed in 1902 by Finnish architect Onni Tarjanne and houses the oldest Finnish-language professional theatre in the country. Designed in the National Romantic style - popular in politically-charged Finland at the time - the Finnish National Theatre was considered a reaction to industrialist thinking and referenced qualities of Medieval architecture (style that represented 'the people'). In 1919, the new Helsinki Central railway station by Eliel Saarinen would accompany the theater to the west - making it the true center of the city with more than 200,000 passengers going through the building everyday (Finland's most-visited building). Today, the Theatre has expanded to operate three permanent stages, with a late-evening entertainment area at street level.

Site Plan  /  Finnish National Theatre — Site Plan / Finnish National Theatre

Kaisaniemi Park (directly north of the National Theatre)

Northern addition to Theatre (adjacent to park)

Context / Helsinki, Finland

Finland and Norway share many qualities. Both have a low population density, both are relatively young, independent nations that have struggled with their Nordic neighbors, both sit isolated up in the northern stretches of Europe, but both do not share familiar topography. Finland can often be referred to as a country of 'forests and lakes', with more than 180,000 large lakes, numerous wetlands and a tree coverage of nearly 70% in the entire country, the world's highest concentration. Rather than the sharp jagged rocks of the Norwegian fjord regions, Finland is informed by the smooth organic coastlines of their lake regions and the expansive, colorful horizon of wide skies and woodlands. The country's general area is considered a flat expanse of territory with a small topographical change compared to mountainous Norway, but that does not change the Finns' general, deep respect and understanding for nature that has always been trodden lightly with urban expansion.

Helsinki Senate Square with Tuomiokirkko Cathedral

View of Katajanokka island with Uspenski Cathedral and Aalto's Enso-Gutzeit HQ building

Eliel Saarinen's Helsinki Central Railway Station, Finland's most visited building

Considered one of the world's great survivors, Finland has had to contend with a harsh northern climate and a hostile Nordic-European world, trapped between the aggressive ambitions of two historical heavyweights: Sweden and Russia. In the 12th century, the area of Finland was considered a fully consolidated part of the Swedish empire, an unruly battleground between the east and west empires for Northern European dominance. King Gustav Vasa of Sweden established Helsinki in 1550 on the northern coast of the Gulf of Finland as a competitor to the Russian city of Reval (now Tallinn, Estonia), a flourishing center of trade on the opposite shore. The small coastal town would never prove to be a successful port city and was devastated by ongoing wars and fires, until Helsinki was revitalized by the construction of a giant island fortress, Suomenlinna, in the 18th century as a defensive shield against Russian attack. However, after the Finnish War in 1809, the fortress would prove to not be enough as Sweden was forced to cede the territory of Finland to Russia. Once the Russians were in control of Finland, Tsar Alexander I guaranteed Finland's autonomy, but required the primary city of the Finnish territory to be closer to Saint Petersburg, designating Helsinki as the new capital. By the beginning of the 20th century, the Russian Revolution enabled the Finnish senate to declare independence from Russian rule and emerge as a self-confident, modern nation.

The Esplanadi, a wide avenue and park in the heart of Helsinki

Eiranranta, Helsinki's new high-end property development in Merisatama Bay

Apart from the city's turbulent geopolitical past, the current condition of Helsinki remains as modern as any other European urban center, yet it is counterbalanced by the expansive nature of the Finnish landscape. Occuping a peninsula, surrounded by an archipelago of islands, the capital city seems to meld with the Baltic Sea as half of the city appears to be water with a number of bays and inlets along the complex coastline. Closer to the urban center, the architectural language becomes a reflection of the city's historic struggle with eastern and western ideologies. The central area around Senate Square, designed by Carl Ludvig Engel, are a neoclassical imperial reference to Russian rule, while residential areas throughout the city express an art nouveau, or Jugend, mentality that is inspired by Finnish culture and traditions. In the bitter WWII postwar years, Helsinki's industrial and business life began to grow rapidly, expanding the urban core significantly, with the 1952 Olympic Games symbolizing the city’s gradual revival. Finnish architects, led by Alvar Aalto, would take pride in the young country's rapid economic growth and industrialization by emphasizing the importance of nationalism and geography in their work, fusing the naturalism of Finnish romanticism from the previous century with modernist ideals. By the new millennium, Helsinki has become one of the most progressive and prosperous cities in the Scandinavian region, if not the world, on the back of a booming technology sector and a highly-regarded design and manufacturing industry, producing a great standard of living and education for the entire region.

Helsinki Olympic Stadium for 1952 Summer Olympics

Keskuskatu (Centre Street), one of Helsinki's main pedestrian shopping streets

The new Helsinki Music Centre, across the street from the Parliament of Finland

Case Study / Oslo Opera House

In a moonlit scene of a storm-ravaged coast, Norwegian painter Knud Baade creates an operatic landscape of a mythical Norway inhabited by an antiquated warrior. It is a common view from a country that is considered at the crossroads to nowhere, off in a corner of Europe, dominated by the harshness of the Artic-like landscape. And yet, as the warrior stares at the moon-lit clouds standing rock-like as the cliff he stands on, it celebrates a symbiotic relationship between the perseverance of the Norwegian people and the unforgiving nature that surround them. It is an image that activates all the senses, enticing one to explore, to climb, to view out into the unknown; a divine experience to all that follow the journey. Enter 2008 and the opening of the new Oslo Opera House, a large glacial building that embodies the spirit of Baade's paintings, encouraging unrestricted exploratative motion and redefined perspectives while creating a new urban condition in the heart of Bjørvika Bay, a vast developing area in the center of Oslo.

Knud Baade’s 'Scene from the era of Norwegian Sagas', 1850 (from the private collection of Asbjørn Lunde)

Le Corbusier's Villa Savoye (left) and the Oslo Opera House (right)

For centuries the Bjørvika pier has been one of Oslo’s economic lifelines and a point of contact with the rest of the world, however like so many other historic harbor cities, the site became underused and in a state of decay as harbor activity moved away from its central location. In 1999, after tireless political and cultural championing, the Norwegian Parliament decided that the Norwegian National Opera needed to move from its existing location in Anchor Square and construct a new opera house in Oslo. With the passage of the Opera Bill and much debate over different site possibilities, an open design competition was announced for the Bjorvika region that would bring in hundreds of design proposals, along with attracting an unprecedented amount of media attention and public interest. The international jury would declare the Norwegian design firm of Snøhetta the winner with a building concept based on three main elements: the Wave Wall, the Factory and the Carpet. The Wave Wall would develop into an extensive oak wall that composes a literal threshold between the public and private functions of the project, while The Factory represents the production area that would accommodate over 600 employees working in about 50 professions and trades for the new Opera House.

The final element, The Carpet, becomes the most obvious architectural characteristic with 190,000 sq.ft. of sloping marble roofscape growing out of the harbor’s waters. The defining element was specifically designed as common property - both a sculpted landscape and an topographic agora that allows free access for all and becomes a democratic source of experience that is independent of other theater functions. The pattern of the roof landscape, designated as artwork, is clad in a stone that traditionally has been used for public squares, sculpted as a jigsaw puzzle of tactile qualities that encourages movement through different visual perspectives and a heightened awareness of one’s surroundings. Ultimately, the sculpted roof exhibits the intention of the project, which is to return the location on which the opera house was constructed to the public and it’s natural surroundings. A quality rarely seen in civic design and one that ultimately speaks to Le Corbusier’s famous five points of architecture almost a century ago. Primarily used to illustrate the concept of domestic architecture as a standardized object, Le Corbusier’s theory emphasized the potential of restoring the area of ground covered by the house and bringing the landscape into the architecture with views and openness - blurring the relationship between built structure and the surrounding environment.

“The passing of the Opera Bill was not that popular at the time. It did not happen by popular demand. But then the building rises out of the dust, and people embrace it as if it was something they have yearned for! That is nothing short of a marvel and a conscious effort to showcase Norway as a cultural nation.”

— Anne Enger, former Minister of Culture

Map of Oslo  /  The central location of Opera House with primary access routes. Inner circle represents Bjørvika bay area surrounded by the outer circle of downtown Oslo. The black dot indicates the former location of the Norwegian Nationa… — Map of Oslo / The central location of Opera House with primary access routes. Inner circle represents Bjørvika bay area surrounded by the outer circle of downtown Oslo. The black dot indicates the former location of the Norwegian National Opera.

Bjørvika Bay from early 20th century. Red indicates location of future opera house.

Bjørvika bay, perspective from Snøhetta's competition entry

The conceptual elements of the opera building (The Wave, The Carpet, and The Factory), by Snøhetta

After the opening in 2008, the Oslo Opera House project was considered a success, both inside and outside, rising from the sea and linking the fjord to the city. The white platform rapidly became one of Oslo's most popular public properties, paired with the equally accessible Opera House foyer, granting visitors access to buy tickets for performances, eat in one of the restaurants, sit and enjoy a coffee, visit the Opera Shop or just stroll around and immerse yourself in the atmosphere. The openness and horizontality became the most evident characteristics of the project. However, once you leave the boundaries of the site, the building that prides itself on accessibility and free movement becomes increasingly marginalized in a undetermined context. Approaching the site from downtown Oslo today is like being transported through a cattle corral, leading visitors through restrictive enclosures toward greener pastures. Two pedestrian bridges, one from the north and the other from the west, lead visitors over a moat of networked roadways, only to land and encounter another footbridge spanning an excavated channel (Opera Canal) that seperates the Oslo Opera House from land. A series of events that would isolate a project, rather than accommodate within a city context.

When the highly-debated Opera Bill was passed, it was understood that the Bjørvika site was only possible with a new traffic solution, as well as a more expensive building and the unclear surrounding ground conditions, making the price tag much higher ($840 million). The project would be formulated as a 'footprint master plan', making it independent from the planning of the rest of the urban development in that area (referred to as Fjord City) and of the complicated traffic situation. So, why choose to build an opera house dependent on a host of questionable considerations and for more money? The main motivation behind Bjørvika bay was to speed up urban development in the defunct region. The motto became "If you build it, they will come" and a few years after the Opera's completion, the surrounding area is slowly seeing progress. Recently, the Bjørvika Tunnel project (the first immersed tunnel in Norway) was completed, bypassing most car traffic along the waterfront and allowing the removal of the remaining E18 highway that separates the Oslo Opera House from the rest of the city.

“This building has led to a discussion of the whole surrounding area, traffic, adjoining functions and the openness of the urban spaces. There has been a lot of discussion about how to make these areas as vibrant as possible; a discussion that demonstrates that public attention has really been alerted to the importance of urban development and public space.”

— Trond Giske, former Minister of Culture

View toward downtown Oslo showing the Opera House's main point of entry.

The pedestrian footbridge to the north of the Opera

The pedestrian footbridge to the west of the Opera

Following local and international praise for the new Opera House and the completion of the Bjørvika Tunnel, the immediate area is undergoing a quick and sudden urban transformation. To the north of the Opera, a new commercial business district known as the Opera Quarter is currently under construction. Previously called 'the Bar Code' because of the long, slender plots of land and staggered heights of the buildings, the project will bring in the largest collection of living and working space in all of Oslo to the area (10,000 office spaces and 500 residences), creating a dense 24/7 live-work community focused on urban activity from the street level. To the south, the artificial peninsula of Sørengautstikkeren is starting construction on a redevelopment project that will include an entire new neighborhood of about 1,000 residential units.

View looking south toward the artificial peninsula of Sørengautstikkeren (under construction)

In 2008, the Norwegian Parliament decided to continue the growth of cultural influence in the Bjørvika region by initiating design competitions for both the Munch-Stenersen Museum and Oslo Public Library that would surround the Oslo Opera House, creating a new cultural epicenter in the city. To be located directly north of the Opera House, across from Opera Canal, the competition commitee awarded Lund Hagem Arkitekter the Oslo Public Library commission with an entry that focused on integrating the project into the city by dividing the site into three separate buildings, offering a subtle human scale and optimal views to the city. Directly next to the Opera's office wing on the east side of the site, the architectural firm of Herreros Arquitectos was awarded the commission for the Munch-Stenersen Museum as a high-rise project that is conceived as a highly visible 'place of concentration' for art and the community. Even Oslo's Central Train Station is joining the Bjørvika fray, by proposing a major redesign by Space Group that would focus on a new unified station sited on a linear north-south axis toward the Opera House, freeing up the ground level for public interaction and providing a massive roof garden above. Of course, to say all these projects were to continue forward as planned would be idealistic at best, as financial and political resistance is already prevalent, but it shows how a single successful project can generate enough public enthusiasm and political influence in a planned transformation of an entire area of the city.

Masterplan of Bjørvika region around the Opera House

The proposal for the Oslo Public Library (left) north of the Oslo Opera House (right), design by Lund Hagem Arkitekter

The proposal for the Munch/Stenersen Museum (left) next to the Oslo Opera House (right), design by Herreros Arquitectos

The proposal for the new Oslo Train Station, design by Space Group Architects

The Oslo Opera House can surely be seen as an invigorating urban presence in the quickly redeveloping Bjørvika district. A building designed not be noticed, but intended to actively engage urban dwellers - elevating them out of the city on an unprecedented civic device that is developed with Norwegian character. As one of Norway’s first opera houses (waiting 120 years to become reality) it surely has an attractive programmatic force that can direct attention, but it is that powerful integrated public landscape that has an ongoing dynamic relationship with the opera house that can transform an entire area - seen in such examples as New York’s High Line and Seattle’s Olympic Sculpture Park. The architecture becomes an activity rather than a singular object, able to entice human experiences of movement, conversation, performance, assembly and so much more. Like Baade’s warrior on the coastal rocks, one can stand on top the Opera’s glacial structure and experience their own transcendent journey.

Diagram  /  Describing the current traffic conditions in Bjørvika. The red represents heavy car traffic that cuts off the Opera House from downtown Oslo, only by using two pedestrian bridges to cross (shown in blue). The new Bjørvika … — Diagram / Describing the current traffic conditions in Bjørvika. The red represents heavy car traffic that cuts off the Opera House from downtown Oslo, only by using two pedestrian bridges to cross (shown in blue). The new Bjørvika tunnel also shown.

“The building is not an icon. It’s trying to be the opposite. Because once you allow the public to move about the roof, it is they who generate the expression of the building, rather than the building itself.”

— Kjetil Trædal Thorsen, architect and co-founder of Snøhetta

Oslo Opera House  /   Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement — Oslo Opera House / Site analysis of access, circulation, new development, and points of social engagement

The National Theater of Oslo

Centrally located along a vast track of public space (Eidsvoll Square) between the Royal Palace grounds, the Norwegian Parliament and downtown Oslo - The National Theatre of Oslo was completed in 1899 under the watch of Norwegian architect Henrick Bull. The exterior expression is a combination of granite, limestone and brick (budget dicatating that stone only be used around the entry vestibules) that identifies with the historicism period in Scandinavia at the time. Today, the building is considered the prominent national venue for the dramatic arts - managing three stages for perfromances.

National Theatre / Site Plan

National Theatre / Aerial

Public square (Eidsvoll Square) adjacent to the National Theatre

Peacock Fountain outside the National Theatre

Green corridor along Karl Johans Gate (Street)Aerial of Site

Norwegian Ambiguity / Architecture & Landscape

Sverre Fehn's Ivar Aasen Center in Ørsta

“Norwegian architecture can be connected to a particular relationship between building and landscape that can be described by the ambiguity between resistance and interplay. Both the larger landscape and the individual site can put up a fierce resistance to cultivation and construction. At the same time, terrain and vegetation offer rich possibilities for adding qualities to human building. Some woud say that this ambiguity, given by the meeting between man and landscape, is a given general expression in the Norwegian culture.”

— Ola Bettum, Landscape Architect

Village of Undredal along the Aurlandsfjord

Village of Gudvangen located at the end of the Nærøyfjord

The Holmenkollbakken ski jump in the Holmenkollen neighborhood of Oslo

The village of Flåm at the inner end of the Aurlandsfjord

Steven Holl's Knut Hamsun Center in Hamarøy