Under Surveillance

A hovered spaceship
A city under surveillance
Presence imposed, insolently

Run as I might,
Fly as I might,
I escape not its gazing reach.

In that panoptic disc, they sit.
Through the tinted screens, they peer
And wield, that extra-terrestial power

A hall of justice, they say.
A UFO, we say.
If only fear would fly away.

Pedagogy in Liberal Arts Colleges

Hi all, this is a general post but more directed to Ronald, given his background as an undergraduate in a liberal arts college. I'm curious as to how the architectural pedagogy in liberal arts colleges is like, and why I'm curious is because many of us come from architecture schools which are either housed within a separate department (and which more often than not tends to want to segregate itself and function almost autonomously), or architecture schools that are self-serving and self-sufficient (SCIArc, the AA). These schools (and some departments), we've read of and know a lot about, as they usually tend to be at the fore of any discussion pertaining to architectural education in any major publication.

While it's probably a good guess that your education was not focused towards the vocational aspects of the profession, what were its mainstays? And how, if at all, can you use what you've learned at Wesleyan in your work with your current firm (in your current capacity anyway)?

Just being nosey. ;)

random architecture-related comic

Dudes, I haven't checked in for so long and suddenly the blog looks so... professional! Good work!

Then and Now - Further Elaborations

In response to Hann’s response, I find a need to elaborate and further meditate upon my “Then and Now” posting of Alfred Wong’s National Theatre alongside our new Esplanade performing arts centre. My intentions for the original post appear to be misunderstood.

Rather than to elicit a purely formal comparison between both buildings, my intention was to place both buildings in an active dialogue, bearing in mind the contexts surrounding their births. Different as their contexts were, the intentions for both buildings’ constructions were uncannily similar-- to impress onto the built environment (and thereby onto public imagination) the prevailing aspirations for their respective ages through architectural expression. Both were flagship public projects which enjoyed state patronage.

If I may raise an example to prove this similarity, it is the medium of the postcard. A Singapore postcard from the 1960s was likely to feature the National Theatre, as uncannily as how a Singapore postcard from today would feature the Esplanade as an icon of Singapore. (The image of National Theatre here was indeed a postcard image.) In both cases, architecture played a symbolic role through their urban presence and image. Given this similarity, the true reason for their difference rests in the prevailing contexts.

The National Theatre came into being at a time of uncertainty. The nation of Singapore in 1965 was then an untested artificial concept, and its survival questionable. At a time when the hitherto-colonial city’s inhabitants were disparate Chinese, Malay and Indian communities, only an overarching national aspiration could unify the people toward the goal of a viable nation-state of Singapore. Unsurprisingly then, the source-material for the expression of the National Theatre was not from the vernacular culture of the disparate communities of Singapore, but rather the national flag. (a artificially constructed symbol of statehood that was only created in 1959)



Axially (and structurally) weighted on the five spokes, each spoke symbolised each of the stars on the Singapore flag: democracy, peace, progress, justice and equality. The curvaceous form of the sculptural fountain was the crescent of a Singapore flag: representing a young nation on the rise. Although its cantilever was formally dynamic, it was nonetheless strictly symmetrical and centrally unified. The theatre would be a statement on a nation aspiring to modernity, resting on a base of social discipline.


Perhaps the picture above would elucidate my point more clearly. Here, an imposing National Theatre stands witness to marchpast ceremony for the 1968 National Day Parade. The strict rhythm of National Theatre’s façade echoes the discipline of the uniformed police contingent. The stage is set for nation building. The very bystanders watching the marching regiment in awe are the target-audience on whom the building was to impress. The semiotic message behind the building was that of a modern socialist independent nation.

If the National Theatre symbolised an aspiration to modern statehood, the Esplanade’s ambition was to urban cosmopolitanism. The primary message was not that of Singapore the nation, but of Singapore the city – or rather, the world-class global city. It was the outside world that the Esplanade sought to impress, not the average man-in-the-street. (even though it did awe the man-in-the-street) The image it sought to convey was that of cultural maturity – of the occidental city variety. Its source reference is, therefore, the Sydney Opera House. Perhaps a comparison of the two images of celebratory cosmopolitanism below will do my point justice.



Hann mentions that the brises-soleil is the feature that is unique, or at least, it’s the medium through which identity show through. I concur and say that it does possibly resemble an Asian basket-weave, or the king of all fruits. But if one were to critically read into the building, one notices that the Singaporean uniqueness of the building rests literally just on the skin. The body-massing and plan on which the skin sits is generically cosmopolitan. (a la Sydney Opera House. Designed by Michael Wilford, no less.) Perhaps uncannily, the Esplanade encapsulates the paradox of Singaporeaness, or its identity-oblivion thereof. That maybe we are not as Asian as we claim to be. Hopefully though, not quite like the picture below.


Do not mistake my opinion. Controversies notwithstanding, I believe that the Esplanade is imaginatively successful. It has drawn city inhabitants to a place like no other building has, where city dwellers make memories and are awed by the image of a city. Yes, it symbolises our aspiration for Singapore to be a world-class city. Yet, the Esplanade still sits on the fence between being what it feels like it ought to be, and what it wants to become. Perhaps this is merely symptomatic of where Singapore is at this moment of its history. Hopefully that will change with we make more personal memories there, and the place starts to take on a different meaning.

This entry is very much inspired by my dearest professor of architectural history, Joseph Siry, who taught me how to weave every individual building a single broad narrative, from whom I learnt how to make my own discoveries from the work of every master.

Lightouch Design Competition 07

http://www.lightouch.org/

Hey Jawn, Crystal might be interested in this?
Or any of you guys for that matter?

Quote of the Day

A small group of thoughtful people could change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.
- Margaret Mead

Made you think eh??
Now let's sit down and be thoughtful.....

Evolving Aspirations

Since we're on the topic of aspirations, local vs global, I'd like to share the contents of a conversation I had with a friend who used to be from a certain committee in a certain planning authority in Singapore.

We were talking about Marina Bay, and how countless fingers have pointed at it accusingly that it is catering only to the elites, and have no room for the locals. And he said yes, that is exactly what Marina Bay was meant to be, a playground for the elites. If you want a piece of the local pie, go to Chinatown, go to Little India, go to Geylang. Our nation needs a place like Marina Bay to complete the picture the authorities are painting for the world.

That comment confirmed the validity of my questions I had in mind. But it hasn't answered them. My question was, is this what we should be portraying to the world? Is there room for the average Singaporean in Marina Bay, the New Downtown which, for many – resident, visitor, or one who’s never been here – inevitably becomes the metonym for Singapore? I guess there's no right or wrong answer, and the answer to this question depends on your values in life.

Let me paint a scenario: I am married with 4 kids, and my family has been supporting me for the past 10 years during down times. Things have picked up recently, thanks to them, and now I have the opportunity to cast away this shadow of my past and get a job that is high paying and shoots me into superstardom. The only problem is that not all my kids are smart, and my wife is not as pretty as the secretary they picked for me. What should I do? Is there room for my family in this bright prospect of a future?

Up until this point, you may be wondering. Am I in the correct blog? Where's the architecture? That, incidentally, was also the same question my friend asked. Do Architects really need to dwell into the realm of politics? Can't Architects simply focus on creating nice spaces to enrich people's lives?

Well friends, that's the question I pose to you too.

Response to "Then and Now"

I had trouble posting a comment on the blog (which will be ironed out once the interface and template are ported over to the new Blogger), which resulted me in typing the following three times. (The first two times I was stupid and uninformed, the third time I had an epiphany and decided to type in MS Word instead!)

In any case, this is a response to Ronald's previous post, "Then and Now". First up, thanks, Ronald, for the very interesting posts and the very evocative imagery (particularly in the Cambodia post!!) that you've given us over the past week. Most enlightening (again, thanks the Cambodia post - I'd never encountered these architectural gems before.)

Well, here goes nothing. ;)

----

“Which do you prefer?” That’s pretty hard to answer. Which do I prefer, simply by looking at the two photographic images? (Which are inherently propagandist and nonobjective by virtue of the selection of the scene by the photographer?)

Or, which do I prefer, by virtue of the architect’s expressions in tandem with the “spirit of the age” in which they found themselves?

It seems unfair to either building that either of them has been made to compare with the other, without any basis for comparison, and without anything new learned even if I told you which I preferred. It seems unfair that either building has been reduced to an image to be compared with, as an image and not as a space, not as a product of any inherent cultural/artistic catharsis that may have happened to result in either building.

Perhaps the only similarity they share is that they’re both performing arts venues. Whether they’re both in Singapore or not is irrelevant as neither image suggests that, but yeah, that’s another similarity. As you rightly pointed out, they were borne out of different times, different desires for the nation to express itself (and express itself with), and (this we all know) different architects.

Well, I can’t respond to either of the above questions, simply because I have to explore a piece of architecture in order to know what it does (or does not do) to me. Naturally I can’t do that for Alfred Wong’s theatre now – if only I’d been born earlier / if only they hadn’t torn it down. I can’t respond to the second question either: “which of the architecture (vis-à-vis their ‘spirit of the age’) do you prefer”, as I wasn’t around in the 60s and 70s, (nor had I the intelligence in the 80s and 90s to make my own opinions).

That said, I DO in fact like the Esplanade building. Well, I’d say “complex” rather than building, because I like it as a whole complex. If you’re talking about the “shells” themselves though – I prefer the space under the shell, rather the shell as a form (but even that in itself has an intrinsic, evocative, cultural reference). The space under the brise-soleil provides for excellent photography, and the quality of light that comes through can be brilliant, depending of the time of day. I’d imagine that space to retain an equally charming quality – if not even more charming – if the Esplanade wasn’t air conditioned. The weave of spikes in the Esplanade’s shell brings to mind the basket weave (or more recently, plastic weave) that your moms and aunts used to cover your food with to prevent flies from getting to it. In fact, when I first visited the Esplanade, the first thing that came to mind was one of those food cover things – is there any nomenclature for those things? – rather than a durian or a fly’s eye or a bra cup that the Esplanade has so often been associated with. This has probably got to do with the weave-pattern skin. It would be interesting if the Esplanade were non air-conditioned – the experience beneath the brise soleil shell would be very different indeed.

Another thing it brings to mind is a large giant fishtrap (again because of its skin, and some deviant imagination on my part). Which does lead to the interesting question if the building were not air-conditioned – what would the “pigeons flying in : pigeons finding a means to escape” ratio be? (Again, fishtrap inference – once in, can’t go out.)

Hmmm. Yet, from the various photographic remnants of Wong’s National Theatre, and with a very small leap in imagination, I imagine myself liking to be there as well. A few factors contribute to this: the nice lawns out in front with the nice fountain (I really like the coconut-cusp form from which the fountain jet emerges – that really looks ahead of its time!!), the “retro-whore” that I am, the spokes (also partly reminiscent of Niemeyer’s cathedral and the Institute of Foreign Languages in Cambodia which you earlier posted), and reminiscent of the ribs of animals used to line the side of tribal drums, for stretching the animal-hide to create the diaphragms for these drums. Yes, I’m very piqued by the culture-specific references and the resulting feelings that such forms evoke.

Both buildings are naturally evocative in terms of the feelings they have evoked in me, as far as cultural references are concerned. It’s a pity though, that I can’t experience the space behind the drum spokes (or within the building for that matter) of the National Theatre, nor imagine what it would be like. It’s in fact a little sad that that potentially remarkable (and environmentally-relevant, as your ballerina has avowed for) space has been reduced to a nice picture postcard, which is the only form I’ve seen it in. Sure, the exteriors are highly iconic and possibly emblematic during its time, but I’m sure there’s more to that building than meets the eye. To Alfred Wong – R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Yet, as it is, there is little basis of comparison between the two highly meritorious buildings.

Well, to “which do you prefer”… which do YOU prefer? ;)

Then and Now

National Theatre (1964, demolished 1986) by Alfred Wong


Esplanade Theatres-on-the-Bay (2002) by Michael Wilford & DP Architects

I thought that it would be interesting for these two buildings to appear side by side, to see how differently the spirits-of-the-age were represented in iconic performing arts architecture in Singapore, 40 years apart. One represents national aspirations, the other represents global aspirations. Both played witness to world-class performing acts and momentous cultural events. How similar, how different.

Which do you prefer? (The retro-whore in me opts for the former, while the spoilt-by-air-conditioner me opts for the latter. )

"The five-pointed facade represented the five stars of the Singapore flag in the same way as the fountain was supposed to represent the crescent moon....... Ballerina Dame Margot Fonteyn once described it as 'the perfect one for this sort of climate.'" (click on link to read more about the National Theatre)

A Tale of Two Cities - Part 2

In my last post, I related how New York, at a different moment in history, went through the same series of insecurity complexes afflicting present-day Singapore. The insecurity-complex I referred to, was that of needing to prove that they “have arrived” though not just there yet. This insecurity naturally extended to the realm of fashion and taste – in architectural design.

We have achieved a certain level of prosperity that engenders a need to prove our sophistication. That we are aware of what is good design and what is “obiang” or distasteful design. To satisfy our need to prove our sense of sophistication that arrives with wealth, we now witness a proliferation of sleek and cool (and dare I say, skilled and masterful) works of design architecture in Singapore.

I am referring to the rectilinear neo-Modernist aesthetic of clean crisp lines and clear cubic volumes interplaying to create Miesian forms and spaces. Like in the picture below. (This is a house by one of the finest Singaporean architectural practitioners of this aesthetic. The trend is definitely catching on amongst other "design-conscious" architects)

Discursively, the form of such work is not locally-derived, but adaptive translations of foreign concepts into Singapore. (i.e. They are not expressions of Southeast Asian / Singaporean culture, but they are Western / Occidental concepts fitted into a Singaporean context.) The source material of such work (and of Modernism in general) begin with Cubism, then subsequently with Piet Mondrian, Gerrit Rietveld, Mies, and Neutra, amongst others.

I find myself undecided as to whether this architectural aesthetic is worthy of pursuit. On one hand, the translation of such concepts into a Singaporean tropical context itself involves the work of contextualisation, and there is no doubt that the final result is a piece of quality architecture. (if applied with skill, sensitivity, and care) On the other hand, such work is more an expression of foreign-ness, not local-ness. Also, by holding up the canon of a pre-conceived aesthetic, are we missing out on the chance to create something truly original and compelling?

Perhaps I could elucidate the problematic by turning back to New York. Back in the 1800s through the early 1900s, an architect was respected for being “Beaux-arts trained”. (An architect who was schooled at the l’Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Paris) The 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago spawned a nation-wide “City Beautiful” movement. Well-proportioned classical civic architecture (designed according to Beaux-Arts principles), which came to be equated with good architecture, was extensively commissioned.

Talented “Beaux-arts” American architects, including Mckim, Mead & White, Warren & Whetmore, Carrere & Hastings , produced well-designed and well-proportioned civic buildings such as the New York Public Library (picture above) and Grand Central Station. These architects copied (or you can say, translated) the canonical works of Pericles (Parthenon), Gianlorenzo Bernini, Filipo Brunelleschi, Henri Labrouste, Karl Friedrich Schinkel and adapted them to a New York context. Their work was artful, skilled, masterful. (And even innovative, in their re-adaptation of classical principles) If anything, their patrons perceived such classical architecture as symbols of good taste and sophistication. (Sounds familiar?)

On the other hand, there were those who went it alone, and embarked on more personal and original pursuits that were not in vogue. They were the likes of Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Sullivan. Frank Lloyd Wright vigorously pursued the personal question of an “organic architecture” and “American”, while Sullivan pursued a rationality based on “form follows function”. In those days, Wright was regarded as an outcast.

Today, when we study the world history of architecture, Wright and Sullivan’s impact on the discourse of architectural history is unquestioned. (because of their originality and their vision, no less) Yet, we only come across the work of McKim , Mead & White or Warren & Whetmore when we study the local architectural history of New York. Why is Wright more remembered and more impactful than Charles McKim or Stanford White, even if they were all excellent architects who designed beautiful well-liked buildings?

I think I know the answer. Wright had his own vision and set his own standards. His standards were his own, and he pursued them relentlessly. McKim,Mead&White (or any other Beaux-arts New York architect for that matter) held up Bernini, Francois Mansart, Brunelleschi, Labrouste, Schinkel (i.e. the canon, the influential masters) as their standard. Their skill arose because they held themselves up to these pre-determined standards set by the masters, but that also meant that they forever would live in the shadow of the masters.

Now you understand why I am concerned with the prevalence of this neo-Modernist sleek design aesthetic in Singapore, much as I admire its skill and sensitivity. This is also why I think we may be short-changing ourselves in our pursuit of “world-class” or “world-renowned”, when we can create something much more compelling by freeing ourselves from such externally-determined standards. Yes, the masters are great, and we could and should learn from them. But we must remind ourselves that we can be as great if we have the courage and vision to pursue the underlying substance, more than the overlaying style and form.

PS// Tay Kheng Soon wrote a harsh critique of Chan Soo Khian's so-called "Neo-Tropicality", dealing with the same questions. It is worth a read as a complement to the topic explored in this entry. Here is the link.