spain

Sagrada Familia by hugo keene

Location: Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain
Architect: Antoni Gaudí
Completed: 1882 - Ongoing

12 Photographs

“There is no reason to regret that I cannot finish the church. I will grow old but others will come after me. What must always be conserved is the spirit of the work, but its life has to depend on the generations it is handed down to and with whom it lives and is incarnated.” – AG (the OG)

Architectural history has a kind of progressive order, or neatness, to it. You can usually trace the overlapping strands of building technology and style across the ages, like mapping a river system. Architects and buildings fit somewhere along the map, usually with recent forebearers, and the successful ones usually have future generations following neatly after. Antoní Gaudi has never really fitted into this pattern. His architectural precedents were primarily from the natural world, and his architectural descendants followed mostly almost a century behind. Of contemporaries, he had few, true peers none.

The Basílica Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família is not just Gaudi’s masterwork, it is in some ways the masterwork. In the tradition of European cathedrals that took centuries to build, it is perhaps the last of its kind. I have never claimed to be an architectural historian or critic of any kind, but it seems to my untutored eye, to be the culmination of more than a thousand years of religious building tradition.

Along with the other architectural classic resident of the Catalan capital, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s ‘Barcelona Pavilion’, this was one of the first buildings I visited in Europe after studying architecture. The main purpose of the trip to Barcelona was to see these two buildings and to experience this legendary city, about which I knew little of substance beyond the architectural highlights.

That first time that I walked through the streets of Barcelona to visit the Sagrada Familia, I recall an overwhelming sense of excitement about what was to come. I have always loved construction sites and this was the most famous of them all. An extraordinary building being built under extraordinary circumstances. While much of the façade and its celebrated stone friezes were in place, the main hall was full of scaffolding, few of the windows were in and it was hard to get a sense of the space. While the genius and grandeur were undeniable, wandering up and down what was something of a skeleton at the time, you had to close your eyes and get a glimpse of this thing that was to come. I noted to myself to return at intervals over the years and watch construction progress unfold.

The building story is as fascinating as the architecture and it has been controversial for almost as long a time as it has been under construction. Much has been said over the years, since the restarting of construction, about the necessary compromise and inevitable dilution of Gaudi’s vision, but I am rather less bothered by all this, feeling like Gaudi knew enough to know that it would not be entirely his and his alone. To me, it is a unique building, unparalleled in its richness of detail and grandeur, most of which is impossible to replicate in photos, much less my own.

I have been to Barcelona several times since and it is a city that has changed a lot over the years with all the tick-tack and artificial life that goes with an influx of mass tourism, and no part has been more over-run than the stairways, floors and spires of the unfinished masterpiece in the Eixample, once on the outskirts of town.

Each time I return to Barcelona, there is always something to enjoy, a previously undiscovered gem of some delight or another, a sample of one or two of the many things about Barcelona which are unique and wonderful, or just another trip down to the construction site to check on progress.

HWLK

Barcelona Pavilion by hugo keene

Location: Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain
Architect: Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Lilly Reich
Completed: 1929

11 Photographs

As ‘architects in training’ during the 90s in Australia, the crisp clear buildings of architects like Glenn Murcutt and Tadao Ando played a very prominent role in our discussions and learning. From them, we can draw a line back to the obvious influence of the work of Mies van der Rohe and the evolution of construction technology he embraced in the German Pavilion for the 1929 International Exposition (colloquially known to architects as the Barcelona Pavilion). You can see a similar influence in one of the earlier buildings in this series, the Stahl House, the structural system and the whole philosophy of the of which is constructed off the metaphorical foundations laid by buildings like this pavilion.

My initial encounter with the Barcelona Pavilion was in a competition during my third year of architecture school back in Australia. The competition brief was to design a gallery and offices for the Fundació Mies van der Rohe, perched somewhere on the hill above and behind the original pavilion. We never visited the site for obvious reasons, proposed a sweeping set of concrete curved planes, open at both ends, and did not win the competition.

I have visited the pavilion several times in the years since and photographed it twice. The photographs here are from the first visit. At the time, it was also the first time I had visited one of the more exalted of the masterworks of modern architecture. I had seen great buildings by master practitioners in Australia, some more in Singapore, Hong Kong, and Japan, but to see one of the epochs defining buildings was another kettle of fish entirely.

I have recognised over the years that I get quite emotional when approaching and viewing significant buildings, especially ones I have long admired, but this time the emotional landscape was new and surprising to me. Here was something I felt like I knew intimately, but also not at all. I felt like I was supposed to understand it, to be able to read the architectural manoeuvres, and, most terrifyingly, to be able to verbalise it to my intrigued travelling companion. At this point, I realised that I knew nothing at all about the history or theory of modern architecture and kicked myself for not paying more attention in my History of Architecture classes with Sean Pickersgill.

I struggle sometimes to comprehend what the idea of ‘modern’ really is, to the point where it loses any kind of meaning. Coming on to almost a century since it was first built, yet the pavilion is crisp, clean, and designed in such a way that the simplicity and optimism feel contemporary and relevant, rather than naïve or old.

The reconstruction of the pavilion, more than 50 years after it was demolished, is controversial, but I do not have overly fixed opinions about what constitutes authenticity in architecture. I am happy to enjoy it for what it is and for what it represents, comfortable in the knowledge that it was years after I visited that I even remembered that it had been demolished and rebuilt.

I still don’t feel like I know a lot about the history of architectural theory, but by visiting these places and experiencing them myself, I am starting to understand at least why certain buildings are important within it. I think some buildings are more important to architects and architectural history than to the public, and this one feels a little like one of those. Not obviously spectacular or profoundly moving, just a simple, beautiful, and vitally important part of it all.

HWLK

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