Nothing but hot air
Zenith Concert Hall

I’ve promised to write an article about Massimiliano Fuksas, but I’d rather start discussing about Toyo Ito and Frank Gehry. The subject will be the same, we’re still talking about the building of the Zenith Theater from Strasbourg, but Toyo Ito is more interesting, and Gehry helps, too. And this happens because the architect who puts his signature at the end is not always the most important person involved in the project.
The Zenith theaters have been built by the French state since the 1984, and they shelter big cultural events, rock concerts, shows and various meetings with numerous public. Among the architects on the Zenith list are OMA and Norman Foster, and now it was Massimiliano Fuksas’ turn to build something that doesn’t define him.
Let me explain: one of the most unique Japanese contemporary architects, Ito is quite unorthodox when it comes to how a building should look, function or aging, as well as to what space, form or materiality mean. Strangely enough, the critics call him a contextualist, despite the fact that at the first sight his buildings have nothing in common with the surroundings. This is because Ito considers the city as being in permanent motion, and he rejects any historical attachments, extracting only the essence of the surrounding landscape. His buildings reveal an architecture defined by ephemeral; they seem to be some crusts that satisfy just one moment in time, digested afterwards in the next renewal cycle. The Japanese architect defies architecture each chance he’s got – in his view, the form is something too fragile to be treated with concern. Fuksas, on the other hand, in his entire carrier, has venerated the form up to the last wave, blob, fold or ply. In the project of the Zenith Theater from Strasbourg, the two visions have something in common: an "on a budget" Fuksas builds, in Toyo Ito’s manner, something that Toyo Ito would probably reject as "nothing but hot air". What Fuksas actually makes here is an utterly baroque and ephemeral finishing, on a simple, oval concrete volume which seems more modernist and more rigid than Pope, the result being somewhere between a Chinese lantern and a traveling circus tent. As I was saying, it is atypical for Fuksas, because he is not used to the ephemeral – on the contrary, he works with heavy material, in the Italian manner, with long lasting materials such as stone or concrete. Even the light glass “blanket” from Fiera di Milano is made of metal and glass, materials, fault-finders say, completely inappropriate for a fiera, i.e. a fair.
I was saying, in the last issue, that a theater is a simple thing. There is the performance hall, where all that matters is what happens on the stage and how well you can hear, see or smell the artistic transpiration of the performers –the project’s manifesto claims this matter is already solved, with all the sacrifices included, so we take their word for it. Then, just as important (if not even more) is what happens outside the performance hall, in the so called foyer, where the performance has a social level and the actors are all those who, in the above mentioned place, yawn their heads out. Here is where an architect’s virtue is always as work, providing a generous enough battlefield for this social manifestations, a space where the new actors are neither too big, or to fat, nor too small, or too thin, where their costumes are neither too sumptuous, nor too modest – and, even more, amplifying the external image of the theater in the surrounding public space, in the vast urban spectacle. In a baroque theater, sometimes the space destined to the foyer and its adjacent functions used to be double, compared to the stage and the public together. Such an effect “inflates” the theater in an urban context, gathering more space than it needs and displaying, as a consequence, a questionably imposing appearance.
Now I’m ready to talk about F.O. Gehry. It is said that we witness a return of the Baroque in architecture, and I can strongly believe it, when I think about the use of space in recent buildings. The tendency is to “inflate”, to render an imposing appearance to the spaces that require it, by enlarging the scale, using empty spaces and underlining the flowing, light and feminine shapes, in contrast with the rugged and heavy background. Such a “costume” of the shape can be seen at F.O. Gehry starting with the fish in Tokyo – an unvisitable structure, nothing more than a billboard drawing attention to the small seafood restaurant that paid for this work. The fish in Barcelona is actually a sun-blind covering the entrance in the mall; it highlights a space that, in its turn, highlights a simple access way. And, at last, Bilbao Guggenheim, resembling a shoal – the same "hot air" from the titanium slabs, doubled by a rather common interior. Well, Fuksas adopts “the Gehry attitude” in order to inflate an otherwise perfectly common building. Around the concrete cylinder there is a metallic structure, supporting the translucent orange cloth representing the exterior membrane of the theater. The cloth looks opaque and shiny during the day, like an immense banner carried by the wind, while at night it becomes translucent, crossed by the dark veins of its circular structure. The entire lamp sits on five rings layered irregularly, thus controlling the plies of the asymmetrical shape: the building is bulgier and cantilevered in the front, and less generous at the back, where it remains almost vertical. Theoretically, the orange surface can be used as a screen for projecting advertisements for current performances, but this device has not been completely developed yet. In other words, he creates the foyer by adding an exterior façade ring, a “hot air” volume that performs its function very efficiently: space. Big, empty and highly monumental. The attitude is not wrong at all, as a matter of fact it is one of his best projects, for here he shows to be aware of the transient level, and he is very serious in his attempt to build something that may not exist tomorrow. Just like Toyo Ito. He allows for the context, without literally integrating it in the design. The exterior reminds me of the Beijing stadium of Herzog & de Meuron. It has that “derived from the interior” aspect, “in the same key” with the rest – an aspect which is common in such immense concert halls. As a matter of fact, what is shocking at this project is precisely its common sense. It is completely adapted, disarming and efficient – just as a circus tent or a Chinese lantern, which proves once more that the best architectural designs mirror the most banal quotidian objects, scale 100 to 1.

ProstoRoz, Ljubljana

“The city must be a place of waste, for one wastes space and time: everything mustn’t be foreseen and functional… The most beautiful cities were those where festivals were not planned in advance, but there was a space where they could unfold.” (Henri Lefebvre)
The yards of old houses, invaded by balloons or apples; small fish bowls hanging in the Fish street; swings and hammocks, antiquity fairs and a whole pack of white, wood dogs – all in the parks of Ljubljana; an apparently endless queue of pink (or fuchsia, if it sounds better) shoes leading to the Ljubljana city museum hosting an exhibition of the young local architects. These are only some of the unusual scenes to be admired in the Slovene capital during the ProstoRoz festival.
One of the smallest and, at the same time, youngest European capitals, Ljubljana, is situated at the crossroads of alpine, mainland and Mediterranean region. From the very beginning, it has been a melting pot for the three major cultures of Europe: Slavic, Germanic and Romanic. Even Napoleon liked this small town, and even today the locals are very proud of it. Still, the expansion of the Slovene capital, which started after the Second World War, together with the continuous population growth, lead to a public space crisis that strongly affects the people living in Ljubljana. The few parks in the city are neglected and, to close the circle, unused, while green areas give ground to the Automobile god, or to new buildings..
In 2004, three young Slovene architects tried to understand what kind of public space would best suit their town, and their approach established a “tradition” that lasts for five years now. As they didn’t even have an office of their own, Alenka Korenjak, Masa Cvetko and Ana Celigoj were meeting in parks, pubs or squares, and so their projects regarding the public space were conceived within the public space itself. Exposing Ljubljana’s weak points, and trying to find a solution for them, ProstoRoz stands for a series of tiny interventions, whose purpose, besides “refreshing” a latent space, is to make people aware of the current state of the public space and of how important it is that this space is revitalized. Confronted each year with objects that are inserted in a familiar space, the locals begin to learn how to have a fresh look on a space that used to seem stable, and they start to see it as a dynamic and versatile entity.
ProstoRoz is not a festival, at least not in the common sense of the term, nor is it an urban event, but an urge to transform the city in a “do-it-yourself” space, where everyone can find his or her place.
Each year, the three architects try to find unnoticed open spaces in Ljubljana, to prove to the people living here that there is more space than most of them realize. They find remote, neglected and unused spaces that, provided a little imagination, can be easily changed into user-friendly spaces.
In 2004, when ProstoRoz started, the three architects used the element of surprise: they placed unusual artifacts in small, “abandoned” spaces, such as atriums, stairways, passages, narrow streets. The following year, ProstoRoz had a more organized approach, dealing with the parks in Ljubljana, which were equipped with some urban furniture, both common and uncommon to this type of space: swings, respectively hammocks, inviting the sleepy passers-by to take a nap. The purpose: to see how the locals use the objects they were offered as well as to show the potential of the city’s public space. Also, the three organizers participated to the manifesto-exhibition “I am a young Slovene architect”, exposing their views on public space. Year 2006 was dedicated to Ljubljanica river, including a change of look of the famous Dragon Bridge, a symbol of the Slovene capital. in 2008, with the help of a new member, Katja Florjanc, the event focused on the role of children playgrounds in the city life. In the meanwhile, ProstoRoz has already become a tradition, just as the inhabitants have become familiar and started to appreciate their city more.
In a few words, the three young Slovene architects succeeded to prove that, no matter how clichéd may sound lately, the “Think small” slogan still means a lot and it works. Slowly but surely. Of course, an entire city will not change because of some pink shoes scattered on a street. But these small objects, integrated in a context where no one expects to see them, make a difference. And we are talking about the difference between a frozen, neglected and unused space, and a friendly, dynamic and lively space.

Because it is comfortable, surprising and pleasing, because it offers multiple resources and does not lack in originality, the "natural" seems like the right choice. We found the proof on the Romanian seaside, somewhere on the former 23 August beach: the vacation house designed by architect Carolin Ivanescu for his family has no elements that can be viewed as aggressive, tiring or in high contrast.
Developed on one level, the building is shaped after the model of terraced houses, on each side of a stone slab wall. Nevertheless, the result is not a perfect symmetry of the interior spaces: the chosen furniture, the lighting objects and the finishing details offer each room its own personality.

Few interior design projects of the last few years have proven as spectacular as those signed by young architects Alex Adam and Roger Pop, and their co-workers, Aylin Bagas and Madalina Florea. Innovative, provocative, with state of the art finishings, their projects have brought Romanian interior design closer to what goes on outside the country and were featured in numerous international publications and nominated for awards such as the Achitectural Award – Moscow 2008 or BPB Trophy – Brussels 2008. For this issue of igloo, the two architects have accepted our invitation to a chat about their working style and professional limitations, about dreams and challenges, about the importance of being adequate, about patience and working with people.

An unwritten law of contemporary architecture says that apartments situated at the last level of a building, occupying the entire floor surface and benefiting from generous terraces, should be furnished in a bold, avant-garde style.
In this case, the furnishing offers the space a youthful, playful air, combining the futuristic, spaceship-like atmosphere with the exuberance and colourfulness of the disco era. The natural light is admitted inside through a curtain made up of rigid, mirror-like elements, that keep the space shaded, but also amplify, through reflection, the lighting of the interior. Nevertheless, the artificial lighting is the element that truly makes the interior stand out.