The World is Theater - Taipei Performing Arts Center

Modernism

Post-Modern Robert Venturi Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture 1966

1978 Rem Koolhaas Delirious New York A Retroactive Manifesto for Manhattan inclusive exclusive

S M L XL 1996

Learning from Las Vegas 1972

Kunsthal Rotterdam 1992

OMA Lille Congrexpo 1994 OMA

OMA

Jussieu Library 1992

Form Follow Function

Porto Casa Música

Rusakov Workers’ Club Konstantin Melnikov 1928 1972

In the last century, Modernism was definitely the keyword with great importance in architecture. At the beginning of the century, modernism brought architecture back to rationality, took off the conventional appearance, and returned to exploring the possibility of architecture based on function. Then, in the middle of the century, the rationalism of modernism came face-toface with the Post-Modern movement, which questioned whether rationality in architecture was all people needed to reflect the authenticity of life?

In his book Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture (1966), Robert Venturi, the standard-bearer of the post-modern wave, revealed that what architecture faced in reality was not as straightforward and linear as what modernism pictured in rationality. Reading it now, rather than giving an oppositional negation of modernism, Venturi gives a warning to modernism, reminding it to pay attention to perceptual needs of humans.

In 1978, Rem Koolhaas actually shared a similar view in Delirious New York : A Retroactive Manifesto for Manhattan. In the study of the development procedure in Manhattan, he found that life and architecture in Manhattan were in a state of heterogeneous coexistence which unexpectedly brought pleasantness in line with human nature. Therefore, the so-called Manhattanism more or less corresponds to expressing complexity and contradiction from another angle, because they coincidentally disprove the arbitrariness of rationalism in modernism, clarifying that the essence of life or that of architecture is diverse and inclusive rather than unanimous and exclusive.

Another Koolhaas’s book S, M, L, XL (1996), in addition to the content, from the title to the layout, is almost equivalent to the embodiment of Manhattanism. S, M, L, XL mean that the book covers everything, so it is impossible to decide on a book title that sums up its content but highlights its diversity. In terms of layout, this book disrupts the habit of reading frequently, because different articles are placed in parallel or in misplaced order, and fonts and font sizes are decided as he pleases. Such production fully demonstrates his inclusive intention of decentralization. From my point of view, if Venturi’s Learning from Las Vegas (1972) is a field investigation demonstrating theory of complexity and contradiction, then Koolhaas’s S, M, L, XL (its layout in particular) is the conceptual model of Manhattanism.

When it comes to architectural practice, Venturi’s sensibility is so attached to historical nostalgia that he always uses conventional or regional vocabulary. Koolhaas does not have such nostalgia. He insists on modern forms, allowing modern architecture to be closer to sensibility of life by subverting the singleline and inevitable rationality and disrupting the orderliness of modern habits. Therefore, to correct the lack of perceptual expression of modernism, the former looks backward, while the latter moves forward. This is the difference between their paths.

Kunsthal Rotterdam (1992) possibly best reflects Koolhaas’s attempt. In the design, he creates a maze-like spatial relationship in horizontal and vertical directions by taking advantage of the original gap of the site and extensively using ramp passages as well as inclined and glass floors. Moreover, gaps between the ramps allow spaces with different functions such as lecture halls, passages, cafes, and exhibition rooms to penetrate each other, extending and forming a three-dimensional space. This approach rationally blurs the relativity of inside and outside, up and down, and removes the vertical and horizontal inertia that architecture has relied on for a long time and at the same time gets rid of the absoluteness or centrality of gravity.

Taipei Performing Arts Center is a building with extremely unique conditions. The center is located in an area with complex urban functions in Taipei City, close to busy traffic roads, MRT, lively night markets, schools, residential buildings, etc. The functionalities are diverse and even conflicting, unlike the surroundings that ordinary cultural facilities should have. In addition, the scale of the site is relatively compact, because it must accommodate three performance halls in different seating sizes, and since the site is filled up with soil from the river, it is not appropriate to dig deeper. Kunsthal Rotterdam is also adjacent to high-intensity main roads, and there is an MRT station next to Porto Casa Musica, but none of them is as neurotic and deranged as Taipei.

However, from a certain perspective, this seems to be an ideal environment. Since the Performing Arts Center is a theater, various states of life are staged, and life is full of complications and contradictions. Therefore, the environment of this site is a symbol of the theater. In the eyes of Koolhaas and OMA, will the complex and contradictory state be another delirious Manhattan?

OMA’s proposal is quite neurotic as well. In response to geological questions, the team placed the three performance halls on the floors above the ground. The backstages of the three halls are all put together as the central mass which is a regular cube with transparent corrugated glasses as the outer wall. Those glasses expose the interior activities and the state of structures. The seating areas of the performance hall are respectively triangular (the Grand Theater), rectangular (the Blue Box) and spherical (the Globe Playhouse) mass protruding from the three facades of the central mass and hang high in the air, making the building look like a magical sculpture. This approach skillfully relieves the pressure of site planning and allows the compact site to leave an open square on the ground.

The approach of putting the theater’s backstages together is reminiscent of a central kitchen serving restaurants from different directions. Although the backstage of the Globe Playhouse has become an independent theater due to the height difference, the backstage of the Grand Theater and that of the Blue Box are on the same floor and are close together. Thus, the Grand Theater and the Blue Box can really be connected together. There are not many theaters that can be connected, but OMA had a similar design in the early days.

Congrexpo of Lille (1994) has three spaces: concert hall, conference hall, and exhibition hall. Although they are slightly different in functions, through movable partition walls, they can be combined into the space that surpasses their original scales of functions. As for Taipei Performing Arts Center, since the Grand Theater and the Blue Box are designed for performance and are connected through the backstage, its usability is believed to be more ideal than that of Congrexpo of Lille. The Grand Theater is a traditional theater, while the Blue Box is for experimentation. Combining and utilizing these unique theater spaces may give theater creators much livelier inspiration! However, Lille or Taipei, such attempt to exceed the imagination based on existing functions, in addition to considering technicality and usability, solely relies on OMA’s habit of consistently removing uniformity, his rationality of defying inevitability, and desire of opposing centrality!

OMA’s architectural form has always been simple. Fundamentally, it consists of some rectangular boxes, and large portions of facades are floorto-ceiling glass and closed wall panels. It seems plain without additional decorations, but changes of floors often put the finishing touch on the architecture, like Kunsthal Rotterdam and Jussieu Library (1992) in Paris. The oblique lines that appear on the section-like facades are actually the floor lines that constitute the unexpected spaces inside. Therefore, it is not only the composition of the facades, but also a natural act that seems to respond to the dogma, Form Follow Function. Nevertheless, it reveals the internal state that subverses general imagination.

Taipei Performing Arts Center is designed in the similar approach, with the body of the cube in the center remaining in the transparent glass and the three performance halls suspended above the respective three sides as a closed triangle (the Grand Theater), rectangle (the Blue Box) and sphere (the Globe Playhouse). These huge masses are more than “styles”, just like the oblique lines on the façade of Kunsthal Rotterdam, whose architectural functions are to be read. But the masses this time are too large, so they can’t be quietly read but are read more dramatically. Perhaps this is what the architect expects? With the strong image, some people believe that it makes the messy environment even worse, but from a different perspective, its rough but regular image brings a subtle order and stability to the disordered environment.

In fact, what is more intriguing is that it reminds people of the Rusakov Workers’ Club (Konstantin Melnikov, 1928) of Soviet Constructivism and the Nakagin Capsule Building (Kurokawa Kisho, 1972) of Metabolism. Whether it is a plane or a shape, these three projects share certain similarities, such as the plane of the Nakagin Capsule Building: the central service core (the centralized backstage), suspended residential units (the Globe Playhouse), and the extended and overhanging seating area of Rusakov Workers’ Club (the Grand Theater and the Blue Box).