france

Couvent Sainte Marie de La Tourette by hugo keene

Location: Éveux-sur-l'Arbresle, Rhône-Alpes, France
Architect: Le Corbusier & Iannis Xenakis
Completed: 1953 - 1961

22 Photographs

Of all the buildings I have written about so far, none have been harder to write something meaningful about than this one. Even harder still were my attempts to convey a building like this in a limited number of photographs. The long list was 95, the shortlist was still 47 and the final selection still feels like it leaves out almost everything. There is so much richness and interest to this building, that one can only visit it to really understand it. In that way, I am reminded of Corbusier’s other seminal work, the chapel in Ronchamp, one of the central modernist buildings from which today’s sinuous buildings have evolved. Compared to Ronchamp though, La Tourette is something altogether different. It is an incredibly rigorous building, vast in its scope and ambition, a courtyard building evolved around the programmatic order of the priory and the monastic tradition.

It’s a building which you might easily dismiss from afar as a severe and unforgiving structure, cold and imposing on the hill like a concrete sentinel, but inside the playfulness and rich complexity of form and plan, interposed with bright programmatic use of colour, makes for beautifully lit warm and compassionate spaces. The unusual design collaboration with musician Iannis Xenakis is evidenced in the rhythm of the windows in the façade, which relate both internally to the spaces and externally to the massing, giving the building a kind of pulsating rhythm that echoes throughout the place.

A lot of the time, when I travel on architectural adventures, it’s a whistle-stop tour of electric pace. There are always a million things to see and not every building is well understood or researched in advance, some are just names or coordinates on a long-forgotten map, but some buildings you do know well, having studied them at length at university or since. With Corbusier, they always feel like the former and not the latter, no matter how well you think you know them. I have several books on La Tourette and have admired it as a masterwork for as long as I can remember, but visiting it was reminded of how little I really understood it at all and I felt like a green student again. It’s a terrible way to write about a building, to state outright that it feels pointless to try to describe it, but if there is a central theme to my writing about photographing buildings, it’s probably about the importance of visiting them to understand them. I can’t think of a better example of this than La Tourette. Like discovering that a lifelong friend has a previously unbeknownst fascinating side to them, or that they are someone else completely beneath the façade. Buildings, at least the good ones, are almost always like that. It takes a long time and a lot of practice to read space from afar, or from drawings, and I’m not ashamed to say that sometimes I don’t feel very good at it.

Visiting buildings multiple times is something which doesn’t happen too often. There are a few places I have gone again and again. Sometimes I visit somewhere, and I end up returning to show someone else, maybe my brother, or a group of students, or I just happen to be passing by, but occasionally simply visiting once just is not enough and you yearn to return. Therme Vals springs to mind immediately, the Mariendom Neviges as well, and La Tourette is another. Of all the wonders of the oeuvre of Le Corbusier, this one has always fascinated me the most and I walked away from it vowing to return. Like a lot of these journeys, they happen on the way to somewhere else, and for obvious reasons, I haven’t been ‘on the way somewhere else’ in quite some time, so I haven’t been back yet but hopefully, in the not-too-distant future, I will. It might be some time before that happens, but when I do, I’ll plan to stay the night in one of the cells and explore a little more on my own terms.

I have loved going through the process of editing all my old photos and reliving the experiences of visiting the buildings. I have tried to unlock and understand the buildings and the visits at an arm’s length, and it’s been a rich and rewarding experience, almost like traveling, just without the hassle and significantly cheaper.

HWLK

Musée Soulages by hugo keene

Location: Rodez, Aveyron , France
Architect: RCR Arquitectes
Completed: 2014

11 Photographs

Sometimes a building arrives as surprise, a random part of another adventure entirely. We had driven from the top of France to the bottom to visit some friends a few days previously and had quickly adjusted to the uptick in cheese and bread consumption. I would not say I have travelled extensively in France, but a healthy majority of that has been exploring cities or wandering the countryside looking for buildings, and already this trip we’d seen some delights old and new.

I had first heard of RCR Architectes some years beforehand, when an architect friend with whom I was collaborating was ruminating on the blackened steel panels lining the inside. At the time, we only looked at some photographs of that part of the building at the time and so I knew very little about it. That day we journeyed to Rodez specifically, to visit the gallery and restaurant for that same friend’s birthday, and after a spectacularly good and uniquely French meal, we walked through the museum grounds and the gallery itself.

As is obvious from the pictures, this was the perfect kind of day to wander around this building. The scattered clouds providing a pale muted backdrop against the faded green summer grass and the earthen red of the weathering steel. It is a beautifully simple building, in both form and function, perched on the edge of a green strip, overlooking the city.

The gallery itself contains only the work of the artist for which it is named, Pierre Soulages, whose work seems to my untrained eye to be at the intersection between painting and sculpture. Perhaps it is what you might call physical painting, exploring texture and material and graphic in what to me seems like an exciting and abstract way.

I cannot remember another museum that enclosed the work of a specific artist with quite the same effortless poise as the Musée Soulages does. The beautiful weathering steel box outside, with the blackened steel inside, and the unique work of Soulages lurking in the shadows behind the veil. It really is a marvel. I have heard before of great museums that the curators did not rush to fill because of the drama of the spaces themselves. While this does not feel like that in quite the same way, it definitely feels like neither needs the other, despite belonging together.

HWLK