Facade Articulation in Barcelona: "Why Not?"

The city of Barcelona is known for taking liberal risks with their buildings and facades, which luckily often pays off in new and interesting ways for the city. Along our bike tour we encountered many such examples, and in turn attempted to gain the essence of each in drawing as few lines as possible while still representing the value of each. The first we were asked to represent was the Illa de la Llum, by architects Lluis Collet and Ignacio, a building whose balconies and floor slabs are treated in a way so that the façade starts to deconstruct and resemble an unfinished building. When attempting to draw the façade, the trouble comes in representing a complex system of moveable panels through a restricted amount of lines. Thus, by drawing its two roofs and slightly offsetting the connecting vertical line the façade’s character is hinted at, though ultimately required more than three lines to become thoroughly coherent. A second façade we were asked to study actually consisted of two buildings, and their combined effect on one another. The two buildings were Torre Diagonal by EMBA and the Barcelona Forum by Herzog and De Muron, and both served to symbiotically heighten the transparency and effect of each other.  In my drawing, I attempt to convey the overlap that occurs not just between the building profiles, but also the fenestration and shading systems of both.  The Torre Diagonal acts as a continuation not only of what is happening at the Forum, but also a reflection of the sky and clouds so that it becomes an articulation of the existing site instead of an object in its own right. 

San Antoni Library, Barcelona's premiere coffin for books

In your estimation, does your drawing represent the form and materiality of the San Antoni Library?  Elaborate on why or why not? 

The drawing I had made of the San Antoni Library is successful in some respects and short in others, though I partially blame the poor weather for some of its shortcomings. The drawing portrays well two important aspects of the building’s form, that of its proportion and its recessive volumes. In relation to its neighboring buildings, the library takes cue of the existing vertical rhythm to create its volume, as well as void and openings. Within this void the recessive volume becomes important through its relation between the front and back facades, as well as how it serves to connect its flanking volumes. More abstract is the representation of the materials, especially in the case of this particular library. The black, reflective metal of the building serves to provide an intangible quality to the architecture through reflection, much in the way a monument would. (e.g. the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C.) In the drawing I attempt to approach this by showing the physical, vertical lines of the material on the façade, as well as the stratified shadows created by the recessed volume. However, perhaps due to the cloudy weather and lack of light, the building’s reflection was not strikingly clear and hence fairly difficult to put onto paper with pencil alone. Perhaps through another medium, such as watercolor or something similarly transparent, the building’s reflective qualities would have been made more obvious through the drawing.  

Form and Order and Bushes

When comparing Ciutadella Park against Montjuic, it helps to keep in mind the concept of the two ears of Barcelona, or the reflection and use of each as measured against one another. While each park serves its community in a similar way, the construction of either is markedly different in planning and execution. To begin, each park shares many similarities; both were military installations (Ciutadella Park was built atop a medieval fortress, Montjuic served an important defensive position) and both occupy important spaces within their surrounding communities. The main differences in each is found in its planning, however. Whereas Montjuic reflects a more organic and drawn out process of growth, the plan of Ciutadella Park betrays the single project that replaced the existing fortress on which it was built. And, while Montjuic attempts to build some of Ciutadella’s logic into its fabric with the Olympic Stadium (and Ciutadella attempting loose form to the east of its French landscaped severity) it never achieves the same form of structure or coherency as Ciutadella. Contrasting one against the other in terms of Charles Waldhelm’s landscape urbanism, the strict construction and clear planning of Ciutadella Park against the free form of Montjuic draws a striking parallel to the rest of urban Barcelona; all one has to do is replace Montjuic with the Gothic Quarter and Ciutadella Park with the Eixample and one has a clear comparison to the rest of the built environment. In each park exists an urban building module and structure, especially when considering the impact of either on their surrounding communities.

North or South, You Can't go Wrong so Take Yer Pick

When comparing my time in Seville and other places in Southern Spain against my experience in Barcelona, the characteristics of each begin to more clearly explain the personality and direction of the two regions. For example, prior to our trip I was aware of Barcelona’s reputation as a very liberal city, though I was only occasionally made aware in examples such as the large public artworks or the persistent marijuana odor. However, when compared against Seville the context of Barcelona becomes more apparent, the architectural and historical differences more pronounced. Seville is in many ways the national and global image of Spain; a mountainous terrain inhabited by tapas-eating bullfighters and flamenco dancers. Everything from the meter wide streets to the mostly untouched urban fabric of the city attests to a city with a strong tradition of tradition. Of course Barcelona does not lack interest in its tradition, but how it approaches it becomes the decisive difference between North and South. Where Seville is more the static gatekeeper of a national identity, Barcelona is, especially through its architecture, actively interpreting its past. For example, in the context of Franco’s Spain, Seville benefited from the fascist national identity because both served to strengthen their cultural dominance. However, for Barcelona and Cataluña, this meant the active destruction of their culture in the creation of a national Spanish identity. Hence, while the cultural (and therefore architectural) goal of Seville is complete stasis and consistency, Barcelona’s becomes one of self-reflection and active interpretation against the noise of a national conscious. While approaching a historic project in Seville, the goal is to blend in to the overwhelming presence of what is already there; In Barcelona, it is to tell and maintain a history that is not always visible.

The Eixample, or Barcelona's Big Brother

10 Lessons from Barcelona, Manuel de Sola-Morales, p.306-308

“Residents’ and visitors’ memory of the city will always be associated with an awareness of the planned space. But it is the form of its physical grid as a mental image, the evidence of its imperturbable permanence that allows us to experience this idea and this awareness.”

During our walk throughout Barcelona’s Eixample, the one thing present during the entire time was Cerda. Every time you cut a chamfered corner, the architectural responsiveness of the buildings shows great respect and adherence towards his very specific planning for the city. In few other cities do you feel such tension between a city’s architecture and its planning; the personality of the Eixample is characterized by calculated interactions between the two. Cerda’s octagonal module becomes a very visible game for architects building around its rules, and how they are maintained or broken defines the identity of the city’s spaces. Nowhere is this more apparent than the block courtyards. Walking into these spaces revealed more rebellious interpretations of the grid than is present on its exterior. While some couryards, such as the Passatge Permanyer or Jardins de Rector Oliveras maintain a completely open and regular entry and courtyard in what closely resembles Cerda’s intentions, others such as the Casa Elizade gardens more freely interpret their purpose. In said example, the entry is fashioned into a multi-height, Neo-Classical entrance containing an art gallery that uses the space for public video installations. Yet, where the entry path ends so does the consistency, as you are pushed out from classical proportioning into a patchwork courtyard of balconies and a couple of awnings. Yet despite the schizophrenic progression of spaces from exterior to interior, the block is consistent in its language to the rest of the Eixample, and so reminds and encourages us to draw comparisons not only to Cerda’s original plan, but also to its other architectural inhabitants.