It was the last day
of our sojourn, our stopover in Dubai: day three. The first day was
for recuperation, followed by an evening stroll through the familiar
souk filled with everyone who claims know you. Day two took us to the
Central Souk in Sharjah, a pleasant retreat from the scorching sun
and the heady impacts of tourism; but what might one do on the last
day? We were scolding ourselves for not being better organised. We
should have arranged to get on a tour to the Abu Dhabi Louvre. Having
the idea to go there late on the second night was not much use when,
as we discovered, the tours left at 9:00am and took up most of the
day. We resigned ourselves to a quiet stay in the hotel. The
mid-summer temperatures made strolling around the streets very
uncomfortable.
Dubai
When walking through
the hotel foyer, the idea came to ask how one might get to Abu Dhabi,
so that we could be better organised for our next trip. The young
lady at the desk advised that taxis were really out of the question
as they were very expensive. She suggested the buses, and looked up
the schedule. One bus was leaving in ten minutes, another in twenty
minutes. We decided to go to the bus station to see when we could get
a bus to Abu Dhabi, even if it meant we would not have time to visit
the Louvre. The journey could be a dress rehearsal: we should have
started our quest earlier. Still, a day bus trip to Abu Dhabi would
be better than being couped up in a hotel room: both spaces were air
conditioned, but the bus offered a changing view of city and country
whereas the static vista from the room was of an uninspiring light
well.
At the bus station
we purchased tickets in the 'Men only' queue. Public segregation
apparently still exists. It was the first time we had seen this in
the UAE. Ironically, both queues led to the same ticket window and
the same ticketing officer. We were told that the Abu Dhabi bus was
an 'E1,' as the ticket seller’s head nodded off towards the west.
Following this gesture into the unfamiliar, unfriendly open bus
parking no-man's-land after collecting our pass, we approached the
first group of buses, one of which happily turned out to be the 'Abu
Dhabi E1' that was just about to leave. So we boarded. This must have
been the 'twenty-minute' bus.
Leaving Dubai
The drive across
Dubai is always interesting, leaving one astonished by the variety,
number and size of the new buildings. Once out of this clutter, the
motorway becomes a broad strip bordered with fences and green growth
in a beige desert that quickly transforms into a fuzzed mist of dust.
Occasionally groups of buildings appeared, but these too, were all
beige and ‘deserty,’ matching the bleached dry hues of the sand.
It was difficult to imagine habitation here, but it was there as
small towns. The idea that the bus trip itself might be interesting,
quickly faded. Deserts are monotonous to an eye looking for stimulus
in variation; but one could not deny the intrigue.
Abu Dhabi airport
Things started to
change closer to Abu Dhabi. The curvaceous shadowy forms of the
airport caught the eye, with more buildings appearing shortly after.
The glow of the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2013/05/abu-dhabi-hotel-mosque-heritage-centre.html
- dominated the vista to the south as the buildings grew taller. Soon
we were in the midst of gridded height, weaving our way to the Main
Bus Station.
Bus stations have a
strange aura about them, a feeling of a sadly neglected, derelict
void. They hold none of the latent excitement that airports have.
Here massive pale, lime-green-painted concrete shelters stood in open
areas of heated bitumen filled with identical, identically parked
buses with very little informative signage. The core building at the
centre of the block was the waiting area with schedules and shops, an
interior version of the estranging external zones.
Arriving at Abu Dhabi
Street-pole graphics on the way to the island
The bus pulled in,
we got off and moved into the waiting area to work out our next move.
The day was too hot to walk around looking for 'the Louvre' bus 94 in
the monotonous sprawl of the large terminal, so, noting the time, we
jumped into a taxi that took us direct to the new cultural precinct
of Saadayit Island. The driver dropped us at the covered way that led
to the entry precinct. We calculated that we could spend at least
three hours here: we were happy to arrive back in Dubai after dark.
The dome could be seen as partial, fragmented glimpses through the
trees, interim vistas that confirmed we were at the Louvre. One wondered: where was the classic dome image taken from? There was no
distant vista that displayed the whole building complex.
A glimpse of the dome from the buggy
As we prepared
ourselves for the approach through the midday heat, a buggy pulled up
and we were offered a lift. One wondered why the entry was so remote,
but we did not complain about being driven on such an extremely hot
day. Was this a planning failure being remedied? The buggy delivered
us directly outside the entry doors, and could possibly have driven
us in. One would have liked to have approached on foot, but
temperatures of 46C make one more tolerant of alternatives, in spite
of the qualitative difference in experience. One could not get inside
fast enough. It was to be the theme of the day.
A quick look around
led to disappointment: the dome was not immediately obvious, just
white walls and big, bold barrier screens shaped the spaces. Even the
water appeared remote. Ironically, the dome and the water were the
elements that seemed most memorable with this building, along with
the play of sunlight over and between the white masses. As one moved
into the building, the eye kept expecting to see the dome and its
grand, speckled space, but no, it was not there. More and more boxed
zones were revealed as one entered into the foyer that opened up to
the shop, that opened up to the deeper public spaces. Still there was
no domed zone to be seen. There was something strange with the
memorable space being located almost as an aside. One immediately
noted the sleek, recessed joint detailing of the wall panels that
patterned the all-white surfaces with interesting, Mondrian-styled,
geometrical subdivisions.
Ronchamp
Moving still deeper
into the building, we entered an exhibition hall that had an heroic
flight of stairs leading down to other spaces and toilets. One had
never thought of this building having a basement. The entry to the
Louvre museum artefacts was on the left; the exit to the open domed
space was on the right. Oddly, one could go into the Louvre area
without entering the domed void. Toilets are attractive to travellers
when discovered, so the trip down the broad flight of stairs was
chosen. Here a display space as bold as an Egyptian temple opened up.
Massive triplicate sets of columns suggested the likeness.
The toilets were off
to the left. The full-height, stainless steel panel door with its
crafted stainless steel handle set the scene for grandeur. These were
not going to be simple dunnies: these service areas were flash, slick
and smart. Basins were sloping slabs of marble; toilet doors were
massive and stainless like the entry doors; and WC cubicles were
lined with marble complete with backlighting, so that, as one sat on
the circular designer pedestal, one could appreciate the subtlety of
the translucence, its transcendence. Everything was considered
intimately and precisely, and had been resolved likewise. It was an
impressive, stellar effort and set the scene for the rest of the
building that had been considered likewise in every detail, no
expense spared. It has been said that the toilet detailing tells a
lot about an architect. The cost of the building was $108 million
USD; a fraction of the $525 million USD Abu Dhabi reportedly paid
France to use the ‘Louvre’ name – see:
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/destinations/middle-east/united-arab-emirates/abu-dhabi/articles/louvre-abu-dhabi-to-finally-open-in-november/
The translucence of marble to be contemplated
A glitch in the slick detailing - wiring for the rear lighting of the marble
The misted lens
Returning to the
upper entry level, one had to see the dome space, that iconic image
at the heart of the promotion. One step outside told the story: it
was a space to avoid. There can be nothing magical in 46C, just the
desire to be elsewhere, anywhere cooler. The change from 20C to 46C
was emphasised by the dense fog on glasses and camera lenses that
took minutes to remove with repeated wiping. There was nothing
special here, just suffering and the urge to move on. The specks of
sunlight held none of the poetry of the renderings. These spots of
glare only served to remind one of the extremities of the
circumstance that transformed the attractive curvature of the inner
dome into a looming, metallic-grey radiator that one had to get away
from; and quickly.
So the cool of the
exhibition space was revisited, and the Louvre collection was
entered. Here one had to show the purchased ticket before entry, and
water bottles had to be left outside. The odd request at the ticket
counter had been for one's boarding pass so that a discount could be
offered. Who carries an old boarding pass when not told to? The first
area was spacious; it was beautifully set out with free-standing
glass cases shrouding the exhibits in transparent gloss. At last,
objects on display could be experienced in full 3D. The exhibition
fascinated, as display objects were viewed in the context of the
visitors and other exhibits, layered and interlayered. It was an
impressive delight in a spacious room: but did it feel partially
empty?
Moving into the next
space set the scene for the display areas. These were modular zones
connected with glazed links, with each particular area being detailed
with trims and finishes appropriate to the items being displayed.
Areas became darker or lighter too, as appropriate. For example, the
Egyptian zone was black and dark, while other spaces glowed bright.
Unfortunately, there was often no lighting to allow information notes
to be read in the dark. The exercise seemed to be more about
architecturally conceptual, intellectual games than anything to do
with the pieces on display. These items looked like pawns in the
hands of the clever designer who, thankfully, seemed to have a fetish
about seeing objects in the round. All displays, apart from the very
few that seemed to want to prove the theory with their difference,
could be viewed in full 3D. Cabinets were set off walls to allow rear
access. The whole was a master's lesson in museum exhibit design.
There were reflections – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2011/07/on-exhibitionism-art-of-display.html
and
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2014/02/reflections-and-shadows-california-here.html
- but these formed a playful enrichment for the viewer rather than
any impediment to enjoyment and understanding. This was pure
excellence, a stunning display of display, of the handling of
materials and light.
One had the sense
that the objects selected for exhibition were limited in number and
scope, and that the curator had struggled to establish some
broad-brush theme to structure their organisation: this looked like
the Louvre 2.0 Light. One would not be coming back to a changing
display here, or to see pieces that time had not allowed one to see.
The feeling was that this selected number of objects was all there
was. There were no great vaults storing ancient artefacts in huge a
quantities here. This was a display of bits and pieces for Abu Dhabi
tourism, labelled as the iconic 'Louvre.' Folk travelled to see the
hyped-up building, not the objects that were the excuse for this
'masterful work' that was pushed and promoted for visitation, and
used as a subtle prompt for real estate sales in the area. The idea,
the iconic drawcard, was made clear by the lone visitor who asked me
to use his camera to take a photo of himself. The instructions were:
“from the waste up, and get the roof in.” Everyone wanted to see,
and to be seen with, the roof. We were being baked under the grey
mass of the beautiful form of the sphere above, all as had been
illustrated in the world's media.
Ronchamp
Inside, in 'the
Louvre' section of the complex, the floor finishes changed
constantly, using different stones with different colours and grains
to vary the expression. Even natural, tan-coloured leather was used
on the floor in various places, giving a wonderful rich feel to the
spaces that recalled Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water. All of the
few bench seats throughout - there was no surplus of seating - were
designed in black leather. One could only admire the sensitivity of
the handling of the finishes and their contexts.
It was not until one
decided to take a break at the cafe that it became clear: this
exhibition space was a maze, a labyrinth. There was only one entry
and one exit. To get out, one had to either retrace one's steps or
complete the viewing. There was something draconian in this
arrangement; something ironic. Had not the Louvre in Paris spent
millions of euros on making the display less of a puzzling maze?
Here, in Abu Dhabi, every effort had been made to create a labyrinth,
complete with puzzling dead ends and misleading thoroughfares that
seemed to whisper, "Guess which way now, if you can!" The
experience reminded one of the frustrating, tortuous IKEA
walk-through, without the clarity of the arrows. It might have made
for a wonderful display of architectural 'genius,' but the skilful
transitions eventually became an impediment to the enjoyment of the
items being viewed. One sensed that one was being wilfully
manipulated.
The labyrinth
The dome
Note the three links to land: in; out; service access
Now one has to
qualify this statement somewhat - it may not have been all the
designer's fault. As one walked through the maze, one did discover
what appeared to be doors that exited to the central, open ‘oven’
space. These access points had all been formally closed off with
black straps to deny both exit and entry. It appeared that the
architect had wanted a free flow of folk, in and out, but the museum
management did not. It looked as though the conceptual ideals had not
met the challenge of ensuring all visitors paid. This must have been
the most supervised museum ever seen, but still the interim doors
remained closed off. The maze format meant that security guards had
to be placed in every nook and cranny of the puzzle; often a
supervisor could be found tucked away in the remote corner of a tiny
dark, or dead-end space, and there were many of them.
A surplus of supervisions?
The exit turnstiles
Caged in
What appeared to be
the broader problem with the museum was general security - the
management of people on an open island space on which stood a clutter
of exhibition boxes with valuable contents. All these areas needed
servicing, especially the remote cafe. So a bridge was provided for
vehicles, but it was a heavily screened off access with secure gates.
Likewise, the exit from the museum was through a heavy metal,
architectural screen fitted with bespoke turnstiles. Supervised
locked gates provided special exits for those with disabilities.
There was a concerted effort to ensure no one was going to sneak in
unsupervised. The problem seemed to be that all open public areas
that were shown in the brochures dancing with splashes of sunlight
and flooded with glistening water, were potentially easily accessible
from land and water, so they had to be fenced off, isolated,
separated, secured in ensure entry could be policed. From land, this
meant heavy screen walls and locked gates; from the open water, this
meant the forming of perimeter ponds to create barrier walls under
water.
The service centre
This building may
look pretty from the surrounding water, as the PR images show, but
the complication was that barges had to be moored for the servicing
and maintenance of these remote, water-accessible parts. These
floating platforms were seen and heard moored off to one edge of the
complex near the restaurant. Annoyingly, the constant rubbing that
sounded like an exhibition of whale song, but it was not, disturbed
any quiet viewing.
The empty ponds
Ronchamp
Where was the water,
the intermediate ponds? As one moved in and around the museum, one
saw grey, empty ponds rather than beautiful sheets of pale, cooling,
translucent aqua liquid reflecting light. It seemed that the museum
had water problems. Divers could be seen through the shrouded
openings working off platforms outside. Evidence of water damage and
attempted repairs were obvious in the lobby space outside the toilets
in the basement. This all looked serious, and suggested that the
architectural attention had perhaps been given to appearances rather
than to the substance of engineered, construction detailing. One has
to manage water very carefully; it is never forgiving. This attention
to visual detailing, to the creation of a slick appearance, could be
seen everywhere, both inside and out. The strategy was exposed by the
large doors to the temporary exhibition area that lacked any 'door'
identity, looking just like a pair of wall panels, apart from the
grimy hand marks at what would have been handle height. This building
was all about style, not people; appearances, not functions.
Style suffers from more detail glitches
Ronchamp
Doors, not walls - only the gap at the bottom and the hand marks tell us that these are doors
The more one looked,
the more it became obvious: presentation matters. Why were the cafe
and the restaurant so remote, at the extremities of the heated
central zone when things might have been better otherwise? On
inspection, this distancing of the service and support spaces had to
do with the structural pylons needed to hold the spherical dome. The
intention appeared to be a 'look-no-hands' floating dome, so the
structural supports had been encased in the cafe in one circumstance,
and the restaurant in another. The other supports were cleverly
buried in the mass of display boxes. This hovering idea seemed to be
the major visual concept for the Louvre. Oddly, at times, one saw
glimpsed parallels with Ronchamp, formal likenesses, not theoretical:
there are great gaps in this side of the relationship, like that
between what Louis Sullivan identified as things classically Grecian,
and others organically Gothic.
Glimpses of Ronchamp
Ronchamp
Notre Dame du Haut, Ronchamp, by le Corbusier
The detail gets messy when it is assumed that no one will see it.
The dome remained
the visual and conceptual centrepiece, but what was it? It was
located over to one side of the plan, off-centre, but how had it been
made? Photographs on-line showed bits and pieces of the process, but
to the casual observer, the dome looked like a cleverly decorated,
mysteriously messy, uncertain structure that lacked the wonder and
elegance that it promoted. Hidden in the nooks and crannies of the
Arabesque patterning were crude, bolted plates, a shambles of
electric cables, and bits of mesh. There was something enigmatic
about this beautiful surface that held authority by looking like a
portion of a globe; a glimpse of a sphere; maybe a heavy ball
floating in the water; perhaps a partial planet spinning over the
horizon of the cosmos. It is a shame that this firm form was so
superficially made and pieced together, as if with superglue, like
metal-mache. As one struggled with the heat, one wondered why the
architect had not learned from the physics of the ancient, cooling
wind-tower vents, rather than shading the open heat with a metal
shroud, a massive, steel umbrella. Had he been too praised for his
wonderful wall on his Arab Institute in Paris, and now sought to
reveal his creativity anew, in other clever 'Arab' ways?
The cafe steps and recessed hand rail.
"Watch your step" because you are probably watching something else.
The cafe view to central Abu Dhabi between folk sitting at benches.
Function was not a
primary concern here, just style and impressions. The detour to the
cafe revealed that the restaurant space was now accommodated in the
cafe area. Here, in the cafe, seating had been set out as a stepped
theatre for viewing the distant Abu Dhabi buildings across the water,
a vista that was, on this day, smudged by the fuzz of misty dust; but
bench seating and stools had been detailed and arranged to ensure the
view was blocked for those seated at tables: and the steps looked
problematical too, having yellow warning signs on all of them.
The restaurant
Christo?
Strolling through
the heat, over to the distant, deserted restaurant block, one was
puzzled by the plastic sheeting that seemed to be attempting a
'Christo' - or were there water problems here too? Was the restaurant
closed because of leaks, or because the numbers made no commercial
sense at this stage? Refurbishing seemed a little premature. Was this
all about failed architectonics? Was this the story behind the
appearances? There seemed to be many vacant spaces in this portion of
the project that looked neglected, almost an unnecessary exuberance,
a surplus, defined by architectural requirements rather than
functional needs. One felt the whole to be a tourist charade; a
theatre set; a smart, attractive place for visitation, where one
could 'follow the dream' as we had done to be a part of the magic.
The situation is somewhat like folk travelling to be at a location
used in a movie, to take the selfie for instant distribution. This
writer was one who had been seduced by the image – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2012/04/o-gehry-oh.html
Sadly, the experience exposed things to be otherwise. The architect
must have known that the 46C summer heat was not going to be
ameliorated by tonnes of steel. How will this metal sieve keep clean
in the dust hazes of the region? Why place a radiator over an already
hot place? Why not make the open space a fully enclosed zone, a true
core? The automatic doors were always far too busy and too slow to
allow the speedy exit that everyone sought to get out of this
overheated 'image zone' as soon as possible?
The very slow automatic-opening doors.
This Louvre is an
exercise that needs to be learned from. The Abu Dhabi authority
apparently wanted 'name' architects to create a 'world class'
landmark centre. They chose Hadid, Gehry, Foster and Nouvel – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2012/04/o-gehry-oh.html
It looked like a 'money-no-object' arrangement, with the whole idea
being attractiveness, image: the making of a moth-to-flame experience
- an irresistible drawcard. It seems that the architecture on offer
has responded to this intent - display: to be something alluring,
charming, seductive, fascinating, irrespective of function and
necessity. In this regard the schemes are a success. The first
building of this concocted cultural centre to be erected shows the
conflicts, the tensions between the image and the facts, where the
image reigns supreme. Alas, it all sets a very poor, a very dangerous
precedent for architects and architecture in general. The world has
embraced the outcome with great gusto, much hoo-ha and enormous
enthusiasm that makes criticism difficult, gaining something of a
'spoilsport' reputation. Like the Murcutt mosque – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/01/murcutts-mosque-meanings-sources.html
- this building was a 'masterful gem' even before it was constructed.
Such is the power of the press, the architectural press too: the
world gloats at the brilliance, the genius, but dares not speak its
name: theatre - where there is no compromise with style, and with
appearance praised, irrespective of the reality of the personal
experience. In this role, architecture becomes a remote art form with
its own elite indulgences and special interests.
The Louvre is
experienced as an ironic, iconic place, as a beautiful, labyrinthine
inferno that appears to be struggling to keep up with its own hype of
an intermingling of forms and glistening, refreshing water; cool,
shady glades; and boldly grand exhibits: if only. Is it a case of the
renderings being too persuasive? But will the world say this,
recognise this; or will, as with Corb's La Tourette, the building be
labelled as the ultimate in accomplished outcomes when it is more
like a poetic sketch? Is the Abu Dhabi building just a pretty,
promotional fantasy branded with the prestige of the Louvre? Does
architecture need to be redefined? Let us call it for what the
experience truly is - not wonderment, but simply a race to be
elsewhere in the cooler interiors. We have to be wary of this
performance architecture as we cheat ourselves if we eulogise it as a
general ideal, a great architectural example. Such work only
distances and belittles things ordinary and everyday that are
constantly in touch with life, and struggle to be and be seen as
'architecture' likewise, feeling that such suave outcomes are
desirable, the ultimate in ambitions.
Note the difference between the 'architectural' photograph, the rendering, and the snapshot:
The renderings
The Louvre has its
beauty, but, alas, it is a part of the faux world of tourism and real
estate sales, little more – see:
http://springbrooklocale.blogspot.com/2012/06/who-or-what-is-tourist.html
The building is engaged in a world of hype that also embraces less
wondrously mysterious things like the water bus: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2015/02/frank-o-gehry-art-of-war.html
and http://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2012/04/o-gehry-oh.html
Might one soon be delivering tourists to the Louvre? Dare one
suggest it! What one soon discovers is just how optimistic our
readings of architectural presentations really are. Who might have
guessed that the beautiful, sun-speckled space rendered by Nouvel's
office could have been an almost irrelevant aside, and so
depressingly hot, when it looked like a marvellous core oasis in the
extremes of the dry, hot desert, the very heart of the Louvre, around
which were the freely scattered, interwoven displays of fabulous
artefacts, gems in the refreshing shelter of the water-cooled shade -
a retreat from the harsh realities of the Arab peninsular, and a step
back in time? Alas, this was not to be.
Dubai's Wonder Bus
Dry pond snapshot
We arrived back in
Dubai in a crazed traffic jam and grim darkness. Even the glow and
glitter of night lights could not transform the exhausting heat of
the day. The city felt fatigued, a fevered furnace forgiving nothing
and no one. One had to ask: did Jean Nouvel ever visit the UAE in
summer? Has he ever been to the oasis at Al Ain? Has he ever
experienced a wadi? It is water movement that expresses the
exuberance of life in the desert, as best seen in the Omani qanats;
and simple timber tower frames with hessian infills offer more
cooling than a portion of a massive steel globe, no matter how
stunningly shabby or pretty the image might be. One wonders: do we
have a case here of an architect falling in love with his own
concept, unable or unwilling to question its purpose as function
since this challenge might force changes to the brilliant idea that
just has to be built - somehow; anyhow? Is the problem with 'name'
architects the maintenance of the reputation?
The beautiful mosque window, Dubai
'Starry, starry night'
P.S.
And as one now looks
at one's own photographs in the comfort of home in the breezy cool of
a chilly Australian winter's evening, one is astonished to again be
so seduced by the beauty of this place, even knowing its problems:
the marvellous dome reminds of Don Maclean's van Gogh 'starry starry
night,’ with all of its Arabian wonder hovering over the sumptuous
detailing of precise white on clear aqua: a stunning play of light on
forms – the Corbusian vision of architecture in its purest
expression. What is happening here? Is it the power of the image that
makes the Louvre such a success at what it does so well - attracting
dreams of sheen? The building is truly like a pearl, such beauty
wrought from such suffering, in spite of it; the grit and grist of
experience. The analogy is interesting, not the reference to the
Pearl Fishers of nearby Bahrain, its operatic performance, pomp and
display; but the idea of the effort overcoming the irritation to make
the pearl for one's delight. The Louvre, sadly, is the pearl that
makes one suffer in the delight. Why is one left in doubt, puzzled
and complaining about the enigmatic conflict rooted in this dazzling
gem?
Ronchamp
WATER & WIND IN THE TRADITIONAL WORLD
Wadis, Oman
Oasis, Al Ain
Wind towers, UAE
The flow of air
A re-interpretation of the wind tower
SOME MORE IMAGES
Metal-mache
The spherical dome, as seen on exit
PR IMAGES
THE PLAN
THE AMAZING LABYRINTH
VISITOR ZONES
There is only a very small portion of open public space beneath the dome,
but it remains the core image of place.
24 APRIL 22
Might this desert scheme be inspired by Nouvel’s Louvre? - see:
https://www.dezeen.com/2022/04/23/3andwich-design-desert-camp-centre-rusted-steel/
After experiencing the Abu Dhabi project in 46C heat, one soon realizes that the ambient temperature is not much altered by a mass of overhead steel, even with pretty specks of sunlight decorating the place below. Steel gathers heat and radiates it very effectively. Desert attire, said to be the inspiration for this project, is usually a shroud of insulating material.
This shell is intended to create a cooler microclimate around the building and its terraces to prevent overheating, informed by coverings worn to keep cool in the desert.
 |
| Rusted steel shroud |
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