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The
Anthropology Museum in Vancouver, sited on a 30 metre cliff over the sea,
gave me the opportunity to place the collection of Totemic poles and native
Long-houses beside a large pool which would seem to be an inlet, or like
tidal pools left from the sea below. This would demonstrate how the
art was derived from the creatures of the forest and the sea between which
the village was traditionally sited. The ramp from the entrance down
to the Great Hall would illustrate, in separate niches, the different styles
of their art from the southern Salish nation to the Vancouver Island Kwakwatl,
to the far north of the Queen Charlotte Island's Haida and the Alaskan
nations. The difference in style is similar to the difference in
expression of architecture from south to north between Italy and Scandinavia,
of the various International styles of Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance
or Baroque. Climate, I gathered, was the key moderator of culture.
But my challenge was to change the museum prototype of didactic display
and secret storage, to, for the first time, open storage for the museum
public! in this way, anyone could view any object in the whole collection
and judge for themselves its role in the respective collection, quite independent
of curatorial pedantry, although that would still elaborate the museum's
message. After waiting 25 years to get water in the lake, it was
finally filled for the APEC conference in November 1997; but emptied the
next day, through the myopia of the Board of Governors. Only with the water
could you understand the reason behind the siting. It recalled the native
coastal villages and their critical relationship to the forest and the
sea and the powerful creatures which they would incorporate into their
mythic art.
The Chief Justice of the
American Judiciary deemed the Vancouver Courthouse the most important innovation
in courthouse design since H.H. Richardson's Allegheny Courthouse in Pittsburgh
at the beginning of the Century. The prominent American critic Kenneth
Frampton also deemed it the most important public square since Rockefeller
Centre of the 1940’s. The challenge here was to divest the courthouse from
its overbearing, draconian image to a more appealing one, in line with
the principle of the Justice System where guilt, not innocence, must be
proven. The complex of three city blocks was to contain two other
institutions: the Social Services Offices of the Provincial Government
and the Vancouver Gallery of Art. I was intrigued by the opportunity
to have justice, government and art in the same city complex and to relate
the uniqueness of each institution through architectural form. But
there was another consideration. the city had needed a central park,
a meeting place for its citizens and a nexus for the downtown core.
The Art gallery had always been a fringe institution with little attendance.
Putting the gallery in the former neo-classical Law Courts building, a
dignified and hallowed structure at the very center of the city, would
immeasurably enhance the role of art in the public's mind. Government
services on the other hand would be partially submerged under a garden
as a barely visible presence. The garden climbed three stories up
to a large pool from which cascades flowed down through richly planted
landscape reminiscent of the terrain of the province. The Court's building,
whose purpose was to be open and accessible, housed a great interior public
space glazed and open to all passers by. It acts not only as a courthouse
but also as a cultural centre for the city; large lectures, recitals, celebrations
and banquets take place in the Great Hall. The complex, an early example
of sustainability, was heated by the sun, cooled as in a greenhouse by
the surge of fresh air from the bottom OF THE GREAT SPACE to exhaust at
the top, with a huge underground storage tank to absorb excess heat from
the lighting.
Convention halls are usually an aberration in American cities. Huge, faceless and dominating, they act as attractions to draw tens of thousands of delegates for a product show and then stand empty most of the time. We attempted to offset this by allowing for smaller venues and to involve the citizens of the city by making the rooftop available for civic events, the banquet halls for private functions and all open for the casual viewer. The roof has a splendid view over the harbour, protected by a giant tent, where it sits. Consistent with the concept of receding terraces, the entrance façade was stepped back, so as to reduce its scale to a more human dimension, engaging it more modestly with the street life of the city. At the end of the civic mall, the city hall in Fresno, a country town, had the metaphor of the sheltering roof of a barn shaped to embrace a civic plaza where civic events take place. The round stage, when not in use, acts as a fountain attraction to a public park. In the more urbane setting of Washington, DC, the Canadian Chancery sits on choice property opposite the National Gallery of Washington and I.M. Pei's east wing. We were to present a "Canadian presence." Our instruction from Foreign Affairs was to make it welcoming. There were twenty-five Washington committees to go through, all protecting the neo-classical image of the National Capital. Although I was sympathetic to the Lafontaine plan, I considered that abiding by the graceful neoclassicism of the city wasn't an honest expression of our time. To get through the many committees I decided to seem to comply; but with tongue in cheek. I would use the theme of colonnades so prominent in Washington; but not of a classical order. The heroic columns that seemed to support the dramatically long architrave across the entrance, would be of hollow aluminum and not support anything but half a glass vault. The rotunda columns would be missing two teeth. The reception hall would open onto a pool of water. The classical sculpture in the court, would be figurative but sculpted by an aboriginal native; in black not white. The concept of thrusting aboriginal native animistic art into the haloed classicist precinct of Washington intrigued me. Given a pool with a wave-shaped edge, the subject chosen by the great Haida Sculptor, Bill Reid was "The Black Canoe" (which he eventually called the "Ship of Fools"); for each animal in the canoe was biting or clawing the others around the chieftain, who stared impassively outward. It was Bill Reid's last comment on our society and its political system! He died a few years after completing this, his masterwork. An aquarium for Toronto on its own island off Ontario place. The aquariums are beneath the platform level. The glass shards, like frozen ice , house the administration and exhibit space. The suspended coloured balls house theatres on different subjects. the image of the building resembles the transparency of certain jellyfish and plankton, which i had seen undersea in the Atlantic. Overseas, in Johor Bahru (a housing and commercial extension of the city in the Singapore straits) the residential islands recall the traditional kampongs of the coastal region of Malaysia on stilts over the water. A museum of glass in Tacoma, is connected by a bridge to the history museum across the ganglia of freeways, and displays a collection of modern art glass. since you arrive on the roof, the roof is an introductory display of glass art, set in infinity-edge pools, which step down to Tacoma’s principal sea canal. The “hot shop” where they blow the glass is a tipped cone in form. Architecture is not simply a form-giving language of conscious thought, which commits to a rationale. Although there is a purpose to the building and a logic to its organization, the concept for its form comes from the creative depth within the psyche, an amalgamation of the life experiences that have been assimilated into the ocean of the unconscious we carry within us. I never know during the act of design why I do what I do. I am sure this is common for any artist, writer, poet, painter, or architect. Picasso said, "I do not seek, I find". It is this moment of finding that is the "Eureka" of the creative act; its source unknown. It is only when I am asked why, that some of the influences can be dredged up out of the unconscious. You do not think your way through a design, you feel your way. The act of creation is dictated by an inner motivation, the feeling of what is right for a composition whose meaning is not yet, nor may ever be, clear to the creator. The rightness of a composition is arrived at beyond thought, but guided by its conditions and the sense of appropriateness. That is why I used to advise my students, "Don't think. When you design with thought, it is very restrictive. It is better to find your solution out of the chaos of your feelings and then begin to seek the structure, discipline and spaces that can clearly embody them". |
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