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Swiss architecture's star double act: 'We're all about Dinghaftigkeit!' Swiss architecture's star double act: 'We're all about Dinghaftigkeit!'
(4 months later)
“The best Swiss architecture,” says Christoph Gantenbein, “isn’t buildings. It is the tunnels and dams and bridges in the Alps. That’s where it is at its most powerful.”“The best Swiss architecture,” says Christoph Gantenbein, “isn’t buildings. It is the tunnels and dams and bridges in the Alps. That’s where it is at its most powerful.”
Gantenbein is standing inside the gaping exhibition hall of his own bridge-cum-dam-cum-cliff-face, which now zigzags its way around the back of the Swiss National Museum in Zurich, a gigantic piece of civil engineering in the leafy surrounds of Platzspitz park. Poking its beady circular eyes above the trees, it looks like some great concrete leviathan, writhing up and down in angular waves beneath the fairytale turrets and spires of the 19th-century museum.Gantenbein is standing inside the gaping exhibition hall of his own bridge-cum-dam-cum-cliff-face, which now zigzags its way around the back of the Swiss National Museum in Zurich, a gigantic piece of civil engineering in the leafy surrounds of Platzspitz park. Poking its beady circular eyes above the trees, it looks like some great concrete leviathan, writhing up and down in angular waves beneath the fairytale turrets and spires of the 19th-century museum.
If concrete gymnastics are one of Switzerland’s proudest skills – alongside penknives and posh chocolates – then this powerful new extension, set to open in July, is certainly an apt form for the repository of the country’s cultural history. Walking through its voluminous shell (yet to receive the exhibition fit-out), up monumental staircases between sloping-roofed halls, dotted with enigmatic constellations of porthole windows, it feels like exploring the cavernous depths of a secret Alpine lair. Ernst Stavro Blofeld might be lurking around every one of its acute corners.If concrete gymnastics are one of Switzerland’s proudest skills – alongside penknives and posh chocolates – then this powerful new extension, set to open in July, is certainly an apt form for the repository of the country’s cultural history. Walking through its voluminous shell (yet to receive the exhibition fit-out), up monumental staircases between sloping-roofed halls, dotted with enigmatic constellations of porthole windows, it feels like exploring the cavernous depths of a secret Alpine lair. Ernst Stavro Blofeld might be lurking around every one of its acute corners.
Older and wiser, Christ & Gantenbein don’t need to shout so loudlyOlder and wiser, Christ & Gantenbein don’t need to shout so loudly
Fourteen years and 111m Swiss Francs [CHF] (£80m) in the making, it was the first major project its architects won, in an open international competition in 2002, at the tender ages of 30 and 31 – barely foetal in architectural terms – when they didn’t even have a completed building to their names. Delays caused by ministerial budget wranglings and the vocal opposition of the rightwing Swiss People’s Party (whose posters bewailed this monster taking over the park), mean that Christ & Gantenbein have since become one of the country’s most sought-after practices.Fourteen years and 111m Swiss Francs [CHF] (£80m) in the making, it was the first major project its architects won, in an open international competition in 2002, at the tender ages of 30 and 31 – barely foetal in architectural terms – when they didn’t even have a completed building to their names. Delays caused by ministerial budget wranglings and the vocal opposition of the rightwing Swiss People’s Party (whose posters bewailed this monster taking over the park), mean that Christ & Gantenbein have since become one of the country’s most sought-after practices.
They have built a portfolio of angular apartment blocks, faceted office buildings and a shimmering lozenge-shaped tower, as well as their own monograph, professorships at ETH Zurich and Harvard, and a fashion shoot in Italian Vogue – their sharp suits and good looks coming as chiselled as their buildings. Cementing their position as the go-to architects for projects of national pride, they’re now designing a new visitor centre for the powerhouse of posh chocolates, Lindt & Sprüngli.They have built a portfolio of angular apartment blocks, faceted office buildings and a shimmering lozenge-shaped tower, as well as their own monograph, professorships at ETH Zurich and Harvard, and a fashion shoot in Italian Vogue – their sharp suits and good looks coming as chiselled as their buildings. Cementing their position as the go-to architects for projects of national pride, they’re now designing a new visitor centre for the powerhouse of posh chocolates, Lindt & Sprüngli.
So all eyes were on Basel last weekend for the opening of their latest project, a new 100m CHF (£73m) building for the city’s Kunstmuseum, home to the oldest municipal collection of art in the world. The result of an international competition in 2009, in which Christ & Gantenbein beat a host of international stars, including Zaha Hadid, Rem Koolhaas and David Chipperfield, it is another sharply sculpted mineral form of monolithic heft, but one that does a good deal more than their Zurich zigzag to ingratiate itself with its surroundings.So all eyes were on Basel last weekend for the opening of their latest project, a new 100m CHF (£73m) building for the city’s Kunstmuseum, home to the oldest municipal collection of art in the world. The result of an international competition in 2009, in which Christ & Gantenbein beat a host of international stars, including Zaha Hadid, Rem Koolhaas and David Chipperfield, it is another sharply sculpted mineral form of monolithic heft, but one that does a good deal more than their Zurich zigzag to ingratiate itself with its surroundings.
While the expressive extension to the National Museum was dreamed up in what Emanuel Christ calls “a moment of innocence”, and exudes a youthful urge to make an iconic mark, the Kunstmuseum is a model of refined maturity. As Christ puts it: “There is now more of an inner urgency for order, for a stricter system and structure, in an almost classicist sense.” They are older, wiser, and don’t need to shout quite so loud.While the expressive extension to the National Museum was dreamed up in what Emanuel Christ calls “a moment of innocence”, and exudes a youthful urge to make an iconic mark, the Kunstmuseum is a model of refined maturity. As Christ puts it: “There is now more of an inner urgency for order, for a stricter system and structure, in an almost classicist sense.” They are older, wiser, and don’t need to shout quite so loud.
For a collection that spans the past seven centuries, their building has a suitably timeless quality. It stands at a junction, across the street from the existing 1930s museum, with a geological presence, as if it might have been hewn from the side of an Alp in one chunk. Three shades of thin grey bricks (with three matching shades of mortar) give the facade a stratified, sedimentary quality, arranged in bands that nod to the classical composition of base, piano nobile and frieze adopted by its neighbours. Laid in alternating projecting courses, the bricks form a kind of corduroy surface, the horizontal grooves recalling the facades of Romanesque churches in Italy, awaiting the stone dressing that never came.For a collection that spans the past seven centuries, their building has a suitably timeless quality. It stands at a junction, across the street from the existing 1930s museum, with a geological presence, as if it might have been hewn from the side of an Alp in one chunk. Three shades of thin grey bricks (with three matching shades of mortar) give the facade a stratified, sedimentary quality, arranged in bands that nod to the classical composition of base, piano nobile and frieze adopted by its neighbours. Laid in alternating projecting courses, the bricks form a kind of corduroy surface, the horizontal grooves recalling the facades of Romanesque churches in Italy, awaiting the stone dressing that never came.
It could be a ruin from another time – except that the frieze, in a moment of material alchemy, incorporates strips of LED lighting hidden between the courses of brick, allowing text and graphics to emanate from the wall in a way that makes them look printed on to the masonry. It’s a small detail, which could be garishly clumsy in other hands, but executed here with a control typical of Christ & Gantenbein, combining ancient and modern in a beguiling new way.It could be a ruin from another time – except that the frieze, in a moment of material alchemy, incorporates strips of LED lighting hidden between the courses of brick, allowing text and graphics to emanate from the wall in a way that makes them look printed on to the masonry. It’s a small detail, which could be garishly clumsy in other hands, but executed here with a control typical of Christ & Gantenbein, combining ancient and modern in a beguiling new way.
The material mastery continues within, where a world of unexpected contrasts unfolds. Lavish floors of bardiglio marble from Carrara and velvety walls of scraped grey plaster meet with chunky utilitarian fittings and lobbies lined with galvanised steel, while the minty-tiled loos bring a touch of retro GDR style. The galleries, which will mainly be used for temporary exhibitions, provide fixed rooms of different sizes, ranging “from the cabinet to the hall,” as the architects put it, in a refreshing departure from the recent tendency for big open-plan “flexible” spaces, which usually just get cluttered with temporary walls. The rooms have a powerful presence, with industrial wooden floors of oversized parquet strips, ceilings of exposed concrete beams and walls of ultra-chunky plasterboard, its 10cm thickness revealed with relish at the doorways.The material mastery continues within, where a world of unexpected contrasts unfolds. Lavish floors of bardiglio marble from Carrara and velvety walls of scraped grey plaster meet with chunky utilitarian fittings and lobbies lined with galvanised steel, while the minty-tiled loos bring a touch of retro GDR style. The galleries, which will mainly be used for temporary exhibitions, provide fixed rooms of different sizes, ranging “from the cabinet to the hall,” as the architects put it, in a refreshing departure from the recent tendency for big open-plan “flexible” spaces, which usually just get cluttered with temporary walls. The rooms have a powerful presence, with industrial wooden floors of oversized parquet strips, ceilings of exposed concrete beams and walls of ultra-chunky plasterboard, its 10cm thickness revealed with relish at the doorways.
“It’s about Dinghaftigkeit,” says Christ, clutching at the air with his fingers as he struggles for an English translation. “Thingness,” he offers. “It’s the thingness of things.”“It’s about Dinghaftigkeit,” says Christ, clutching at the air with his fingers as he struggles for an English translation. “Thingness,” he offers. “It’s the thingness of things.”
This might sound like a dose of archispeak, but there is an earnestness and precision to the way Christ & Gantenbein articulate their painstakingly resolved building that makes this sense of “thingness” (or “substantiality” as the dictionary has it) ring true in every detail.This might sound like a dose of archispeak, but there is an earnestness and precision to the way Christ & Gantenbein articulate their painstakingly resolved building that makes this sense of “thingness” (or “substantiality” as the dictionary has it) ring true in every detail.
Walking around the existing museum – a stripped, quasi-fascist complex, coincidentally designed by Christ’s great uncle, Rudolf Christ, together with Paul Bonatz – there are echoes of the new building everywhere. From the sweeping marble staircase, to the scraped plaster walls and curving soffit details beneath the landing, it has all been absorbed, digested and redeployed in a way that feels both in-keeping and radically new.Walking around the existing museum – a stripped, quasi-fascist complex, coincidentally designed by Christ’s great uncle, Rudolf Christ, together with Paul Bonatz – there are echoes of the new building everywhere. From the sweeping marble staircase, to the scraped plaster walls and curving soffit details beneath the landing, it has all been absorbed, digested and redeployed in a way that feels both in-keeping and radically new.
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Back in Zurich, it turns out their chamfered concrete bunker isn’t quite so alien after all, spawned in a similar, if more abstract, way from the particularities of the 19th-century complex. Its shear concrete walls aren’t cast from any old mix, but a recipe that incorporates honey-coloured tufa aggregate, the spongey stone from which the existing museum is built, its surface water-jetted to reveal the porous texture.Back in Zurich, it turns out their chamfered concrete bunker isn’t quite so alien after all, spawned in a similar, if more abstract, way from the particularities of the 19th-century complex. Its shear concrete walls aren’t cast from any old mix, but a recipe that incorporates honey-coloured tufa aggregate, the spongey stone from which the existing museum is built, its surface water-jetted to reveal the porous texture.
The lurching roofline isn’t a piece of wilful Libeskindism, but a composition finely tuned to reflect the picturesque peaks and troughs of the towers, turrets and hipped roofs behind. Two thirds of the budget actually went on an immaculate restoration of the earlier rambling building, shoring up the structure and inserting new elements in a process of careful intervention.The lurching roofline isn’t a piece of wilful Libeskindism, but a composition finely tuned to reflect the picturesque peaks and troughs of the towers, turrets and hipped roofs behind. Two thirds of the budget actually went on an immaculate restoration of the earlier rambling building, shoring up the structure and inserting new elements in a process of careful intervention.
Christ & Gantenbein have crafted a sequence of hugely evocative spaces, where existing Corinthian columns meet the rugged concrete vaults of a new ceiling, where rooms are framed by grand wooden doors, CNC-milled with knobbly, vermiculated textures. As in their Basel Kunstmuseum, there is an awareness of the effects of combining materials, of the drama derived from changing qualities of space, light, proportion – a sensitivity, as they have it, to the tangible thingness of things.Christ & Gantenbein have crafted a sequence of hugely evocative spaces, where existing Corinthian columns meet the rugged concrete vaults of a new ceiling, where rooms are framed by grand wooden doors, CNC-milled with knobbly, vermiculated textures. As in their Basel Kunstmuseum, there is an awareness of the effects of combining materials, of the drama derived from changing qualities of space, light, proportion – a sensitivity, as they have it, to the tangible thingness of things.