Architectural Adventures

San Cataldo Cemetery by hugo keene

San Cataldo Cemetery (The City of the Dead) - Modena, Italy - Architect: Aldo Rossi - Completed: 1971 (Unfinished)

11 Photographs

“I cannot be Postmodern, as I have never been Modern” - Aldo Rossi

Sometime during my early days of architecture school, I remember coming across a small black and white image of the San Cataldo Cemetery, otherwise known as The City of the Dead, in a book on Italian architectural history. I recall being taken by this single image, not dissimilar to the first photograph in this series. I loved the bold geometry and the simplicity of the forms. Though not a follower of religion, I have always loved religious buildings and in particular the cemeteries that often surround or are connected to them, but this was something completely different from everything I had seen before. As a young architect to be, it seemed to speak to me of the possibilities of looking at something and seeing a completely new way of doing it.

Over the years, I kept stumbling across the building in journals and books, yet it wasn’t until 2011 that I finally found myself in northern Italy, on a train to Verona passing through Modena. While the small child inside me wanted to go looking for the bright crimson red of the nearby Ferrari factory, the architect in me had only one destination in mind as I disembarked. It was a baking hot Mediterranean day, the kind that we knew only too well from growing up on Tarndanya (the Adelaide Plains) and the short walk alongside the train line was anything but pleasant.

There is something unique about the experience of an architect visiting a building they know well. When we read drawings and view images we are able to translate them (with varying degrees of success) into imagined experiences of places, but nothing quite compares to visiting a building, no matter how well you think you know it. In this, I think the qualities of great architecture are impossible to transport. It’s very difficult to distinguish the good from the great without setting foot and eye upon it. At San Cataldo, it was the previously undiscovered moments of the place that impressed me much more than the vast open scorched courtyards, despite those open views of the square red ossuary building being so beguiling to my young architectural mind. It’s a fascinating place, beautiful and confusing in equal measure.

Interestingly, it was a few weeks later that I was lucky enough to visit Carlo Scarpa’s Tomba Brion, whom Rossi triumphed over in an architectural competition for the San Cataldo commission. This effectively book-ended a journey of half a lifetime, providing me with two vastly contrasting views of death and how we might approach this from a built perspective. But that place is a story for another post.

HWLK

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Villa Tugendhat by hugo keene

Villa Tugendhat - Brno, Czech Republic - Architect: Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Lilly Reich - Completed: 1930

12 Photographs

My habit of returning from European ice hockey tournaments via unconventional routes found me stalking up a snow-covered Czech hill one brisk March morning brandishing a sheepish grin and a printed ticket. I hadn’t seen many images of the Villa Tugendhat before but felt I knew it having recently read the fictionalised story of the house in Simon Mawer’s book The Glass Room. The book itself was famously disliked by the descendants of the Tugendahts, but it brought to my attention one of the late European buildings of one of the great modernist masters. I’d seen a number of Mies’ buildings in North America a few years before, but this felt like something different, smaller, less machine-like, no less refined, but in a different way. I was excited.

I really love the moments on an architectural adventure, just before a house or building comes into view, when you know it’s coming. I can clearly see the steep street in my mind, a tall building masking the view as I approached, before the wide side garden opens up, revealing a beautiful white house, settled in the snow, looking out across a rolling town also blanketed in snow. A perfectly white, beautifully clear and simple work of remarkable clarity, deeply modernist, inside and out.

I liked this house much more than I expected. It is opulence at its most austere, managing a kind of warmth that surprised me. The sun-filled rooms and plant-filled glasshouse certainly contribute to this, but it’s definitely more than that. The clean white of the material palette is balanced by the richness of the materials used in the detail; the rosewood, the travertine, the onyx, and the bronze.

The construction nerd in me was delighted at how technically brilliant and innovative the house was for its time, utilising window heaters to eliminate condensation, as well as 4 gigantic 3.1m x 4.8m windows which mechanically dropped into the floor to open the whole front of the living spaces to the garden.

Remarkable.

HWLK

Neue Staatsgalerie by hugo keene

Neue Staatsgalerie - Stuttgart, Germany - Architect: James Stirling, Michael Wilford and Associates - Completed: 1984

12 Photographs

If any building sits at the heart of my fascination with architecture, then the Neue Staatsgalerie is probably it. Not because it’s the best building I’ve visited (it isn’t) or because I particularly love post-modernism (I don’t), but in a similar way to the cemetery at San Cataldo, it came to me at a time in my education when I needed tinder for the lonely sparks of architectural inspiration that I was experiencing.

In my third year at university, I was designing a sunken plaza in Adelaide and my tutor saw my rough model of intertwined shapes and bright colours and sent me off to the library to find this strange fascination he’d described. This was before we had the internet and a hundred images at our fingertips, but after an exhaustive search of architectural books, I found it. As first I was enthralled by the bold colours and exciting geometry, but soon discovered and began to appreciate how the interlocking and interconnected spaces defined the visitors experience of the place by creating possibilities that seemed random, but actually were intimately connected to the building user and their experience.

Despite all this, I had never been in a hurry to visit. Somehow, I knew it would come at some point and it happened organically, while travelling through Germany on a camping holiday. I visited twice, over the course of two days, and the first time I took no pictures nor drew any lines. It was the afternoon, and I walked the place up and down, back to front, inside and out. The next morning, I returned with my camera and took a set of photographs.

It is rare to visit a building and not be disappointed in some way, no matter how exciting or brilliant the building is, but I found it hard to be disappointed by the Neue Staatsgalerie. I knew her faults, like a sometimes irritating old friend that you love at all times regardless, and visiting was a little like coming home. I have visited many buildings before this one and I’m glad I waited, because strangely I don’t think I would have appreciated it like I did.

It was worth the wait.

HWLK