The idea was that we should re-visit the Arab Institute to
show this beautiful building to our friends, so we strolled along the Seine
after passing Notre Dame until we had to cross over to Nouvel’s Institute that
could already be seen addressing the aspect from some way off. After achieving
the almost impossible and surviving the road crossings, we moved onto the site
of the Arab Institute and through the geometric masses that marked the
entrance. The tight spaces opened up into a large forecourt that presented the
wonderful wall of irises, Nouvel’s mechanical, light-sensitive, climate control
devices that cleverly reference traditional Arab patterns in art and design. It
was good to see again – just a grand a spectacle as it was remembered. But what
was this?
To the right was a large free-form mass, curvaceous, glossy
and white. This was new. It looked temporary. One sign seemed to suggest that
it held a display of Zaha Hadid’s work. It was not at all clear. It looked as
though Hadid could have designed this little mass as an icon to exhibit her
work. Or was the display in the Institute building? The building was a strange
contrast with the classicism and rigour of Nouvel’s building. Here were bold
three-dimensional surfaces bulging and billowing with forms similar to those
coloured blobs in an oil lamp. The mass made no particular gesture to Nouvel’s
building other than with what one might assume to be an intentional indent
opposite the entrance to the Institute. But was this merely a chance relationship?
It held no certainty that this dent was created by design for any other purpose
than it looked interesting. The remainder of the building was introvert and
self-centred, and gave no hint of it knowing where it was. It could really have
been anywhere.
It was attractive. One was drawn to it to touch it – to feel
its reality; to look at its detail, for it had a surreal presence that was
enhanced by the juxtaposition with the rigour of Nouvel’s formal grids.
Wandering around what looked and felt like epoxy-coated fibre glass, one
repeatedly pondered on what it was; how it was; what it was for; how it
achieved any function; how it was made; and how one entered this cloud. While
all but the last question could remain vague and unresolved, it seemed that how
one should approach this building might be more explicit. The uncertainty left
one uneasy. After making the assumption that the void between two bulging white
masses might be a ramped entry, we wandered up to explore the possibility. It
was strange that there was no confirming graphic that might have helped us in
our dilemma as the way in, like the remainder of the form, had no straight
lines and no visible termination.
Weaving up the ramp along its curves, one could again touch
the white. It held an unusual lack of reality in its perfection. The question
seemed to be: can something ever be so completely without blemish? The hands
sought to confirm that it could be. It did feel beautifully smooth – not a
pimple or a grain of grit disrupted the flow of the feel. Then there was a void
and a glazed wall. We assumed this was an entrance so we walked in. The
interior was as freely curvaceous as the exterior, but one had no indication of
where one should go or what one should do once having passed through the doors.
There were no signs here either. So we wandered around seeking out some sense
of organisation. No, this way was a dead end. The other way opened up into
spaces displaying various models in other voids enveloped by epoxy forms with a
‘futuristic,’ integral shaping.
Our confusion must have looked obvious. Two tall, uniformed
guards approached us and asked us for our entrance tickets. We offered them the
ones purchased for the Arab Institute, but were bluntly told that these would
not do. Other tickets for this display had to be purchased. How were we to know
this when there was nothing to explain even the purpose of this building? There
was a stunning lack of any information and signage. It was all as vaguely
amorphous as the building itself. Where did one get these tickets? At the Arab
Institure. But it was closed. The Gaelic shrug and the threatening uniforms
made it clear that there was no logical or rational strategy here that could
achieve any result that might allow us to move in beyond this point, so we left
in silent protest. Typical!
At least we knew something more about the building. On the
way back down the ramp we discovered that parts of the curved walls allowed us
to reach over onto what might be a roof. Did the white forms wrap the whole
building with a continued refinement? No. The slick walls stopped with an
elegant curve that lapped a secret gutter to catch the water running off what
one might label as the roof. Standing on tiptoes to get a better view, and
reaching further, one could see that the ‘roof’ was a taut, translucent
membrane that let light into the interiors. It was an interesting discovery.
But how did the membrane meet the gutter? The fingers probed. Great blobs of
‘squeezy’ sealant could be felt along the edge of the membrane at the gutter.
The stretching to see more revealed an enormous messy strip of wide, bulky goo
that had been smeared thickly over both membrane and gutter to seal the
junction. There was no elegance here, just muck. While everything easily
accessible to the eye was a pristine, hi-tech wonder – look at me, no hands! –
once the detailing was out of sight, it became carelessly mundane. One was left
wondering about the other joints that could not be seen. The DOMUS aerial image
on the Internet showed that there were many other situations that required
careful solutions to remove water and stop its penetration. What happened here?
One could not be hopeful that everything was as beautifully resolved as the
detail of the lower exterior surfaces.
The disappointment was that the gleam, gloss and wonder were
all just a false, showy style, concealing some less than mundane detailing. Did
this prove that Hadid’s work was mere decoration – a skin for appearance only?
After seeing Nouvel’s work again, one could appreciate its coherence, logic,
depth and rigour. It made Hadid’s work look careless, shallow, in spite of its
attractive skin. Did all of Hadid’s work suffer from this lack of interest in
concealed detailing? Is style the essence? If there is so much effort spent on
achieving the desired image, and so little care given to the joining of the
parts that cannot be seen, then one has to ask why - why it is not unfair to make the claim that the work is all
about appearance rather than anything else. All the joints in the white panels
were perfect, but those unseen seemed, well, just sloppy.
Clever computers are able to develop and define the most
complex of forms and make them, but how things are joined together and made
waterproof needs the more traditional architectural input, techniques and
understanding. Even though this might not be as dramatically exciting as
computer work, the joint and the seal remain critical to the success of any
architectural outcome and offer as great a challenge as does the shaping and
making of the shell. Managing some highly visible joints carefully while not
spending any effort or time on the unseen parts, does give the appearance of a
smart hoax. It suggests much the same carelessness as was displayed for the
visitor who was left stranded in a no-mans-land of indecision because of the
lack of signs, either metaphorical in the making of the semiology of the
masses, or in the specific information provided as diagram and text. This
neglect suggests a lack of empathy for others involved in the building – the
‘users.’ What looks to be most important is only ME and MY form.
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