The invisible building

Once upon a time, I got a masters degree in architecture, and then I went to work for a well-known and well-respected architect and urban designer, Lou Sauer, a Fellow of the American Institute of Architects. Sauer was teaching at the University of Pennsylvania at the time, and he spoke passionately about the need to teach architects good urban-design principles. In one conversation, he said he had assigned a project to his architecture students to design a building to be located in the central quadrangle of the Penn campus. It was a “trick” project because the right answer, according to Sauer, was not to put a building in that beautiful iconic space at all. Only one of his students got it right, putting the programmed spaces underground and leaving the quadrangle more or less as it is. “When you give a person a hammer, all problems look like nails,” he lamented (or something to that effect), “but sometimes they’re just not.” I’ve never forgotten this lesson, for it applies to so much in life, not just buildings.

However, after all these years, I’ve finally seen another solution to the problem of putting a building in an iconic open space that is arguable better to leave untouched. An uncompromisingly modern building in a beautiful classical environment best left unspoiled. For I have seen an invisible building.

My mind is still reeling a bit from this. Was it a trick of the sky and the time of day, the weather and the angle of approach? The building happened to be along a route that my husband and I walked getting to and from our hotel. It can be seen a bit better from another angle and another time of day, but it’s still tricky.

The building is the Cartier Foundation for Contemporary Art. Its architect, Jean Nouvel, has this to say about it:

Architecture where the game consists in blurring the tangible boundaries of the building and rendering superfluous the reading of a solid volume amid poetics of fuzziness and effervescence. When virtuality is attacked by reality, architecture must more than ever have the courage to take on the image of contradiction.

Well, I’m not entirely sure what all that architect-speak is about, but I do know that this building makes me laugh in delight. And there’s a lesson here, too. It’s always worth looking around the corner for an unexpected answer to a problem. You just might find it.

The weirdest museum I’ve ever seen

The MONA (Museum of Old and New Art) museum in Hobart, Australia may not be the weirdest museum in all the world, but it has to be in the running. Created by billionnaire David Walsh, a math genius who made his money playing the odds, this museum has to be a much better contribution to the world than spending his billions on, well, many of the other things that other billionnaires spend their money on. And let me say right off, Huzzah Mr. Walsh!

How to describe it? First, it’s built into a cliff underneath some existing buildings, cut into the solid rock. If you’re interested in architecture, this interview is worth reading. Also, you have to take a ferry to get there, and you know it’s going to be strange the moment you walk inside.

And it gets stranger after that. Yes, there’s artwork, old and new and new-mimicking-old. There are entire installations. There’s music to experience it all by. There are jazz musicians creating new music real-time on the spot. There are artists creating paintings real-time on the spot. There’s a restaurant and a winery, too. And it’s still being built.

I’m really a little at a loss for words. Fortunately, I have pictures. So, if a picture is worth a thousand words, here goes.

I see I’ve added a number of photos of pictures on walls. This is an impression that is seriously misleading, and I must correct it. This museum is not about pictures on walls. I mean, it *is* about pictures on walls, but it’s also so much more.

Is it worth a visit if you happen to be, say, anywhere in Tasmania? Yes, absolutely. But is it worth a journey? Let’s just say that Tasmania is worth the journey, and so, yes, please don’t miss this unique museum!

Melbourne — where architecture is fun

It’s confession time: I studied architecture, have a masters degree in it, in fact, from a university that is very serious about good design. And I believe that most modern architecture, particularly the high-rise vernacular of our center cities, is anything but good design.

But Melbourne is different.

Any city where the architecture makes you smile or even laugh, or shake your head in sheer disbelief… Well, that city has to be fundamentally delightful. And Melbourne is.

Now, come on, tell me, doesn’t this make you laugh out loud? Or at least maybe smile, just a little?

There’s something about the sheer modern exuberance of Melbourne that’s positively contagious.

(Yes, the reflective glass really is purple and blue and orange and green.)

And here’s another thing I like about Melbourne’s architecture: There is a certain respect for their architectural heritage. And that heritage is rich.

Often, the facades of old buildings are preserved even after the building is torn down to make room for a modern high-rise. Sometimes, in fact, the entire old building is preserved, and the high rise is cantilevered right out over it.

The juxtaposition is jarring, but also in a strange way, delightful. And Melbourne is fortunate to have preserved these fine old buildings.

Here and there, too, are classic, timeless, and perfectly lovely details.