Modern Heritage Under Pressure: Perspectives from the Global South

MODERN HERITAGE UNDER PRESSURE KEEPING IT MODERN

PERSPECTIVES FROM THE GLOBAL SOUTH

Edited by Aziza Chaouni with Dana Salama

Copyright © 2023 by Aziza Chaouni

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN 0-313-17652-4

Published by the University of Toronto John H. Daniels Faculty of Architecture, Landscape, and Design

1 Spadina Crescent Toronto, ON M5S 2J5 Canada

Edited by Aziza Chaouni and Dana Salama.

With assistance from Hasan Hirji, Batoul Faour, and Kira James. Design: Dana Salama with assistance from Saaraa Prejmi. Cover Photography (front and back) by Andreea Muscurel.

Cover Design: Anna Toshkova

Aziza Chaouni with her grandmother Saida at the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station.

This publication is dedicated to the memory of my father Fouad Chaouni.

I completed the acknowledgement and introduction of this publication while I was sitting by his side, in a hospital room in Rabat, Morocco, hoping that he will be out and safe soon. He passed away ten days later, on November 26th 2020.

Words fail me to express my infinite gratitude for his selfless love and generosity, for his enduring encouragements, and for his unique sense of humour that always lightened the toughest situations.

I miss him every day, and every day I meet someone whose life he positively touched. I will strive to continue his legacy.

To my mother Faiza Zemmouri, for her kindness, devotion, and love.

I would have never dared to go after my dreams without her selfless support and stimulating mind always by my side. Hence, my accomplishments are equally hers.

Aziza Chaouni, 2021

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This publication would not have been made possible without the ongoing support of the Keeping It Modern program director Antoine Wilmering, who has acted as a mentor throughout this journey. His team was also essential in making this publication possible.

In January 2019, the Keeping It Modern program at the Getty Foundation provided a generous grant to the John. H Daniels Faculty of Architecture, Landscape and Design to organize a workshop in the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath station on the conservation of modern heritage in the Global South. This grant further supported the process of compiling this publication.

I would like to thank the director of HRM Mr. Mohammed Karkari as well as the director of the Sidi Harazem hotel for hosting us with great warmth and professionalism. I would like to acknowledge the incredible logistical work of Daniels students Ted Marchant and Avery Clark, and Science-Po interns Alice Zaglia and Solene Pauly, who supervised the workshop organization in Morocco.

I would like to extend my gratitude to the authors of this publication, with whom we have collaborated over a year to finalize their papers.

At last, I would like to thank the amazing team of Daniels Faculty students and young intern architects who have been instrumental in assembling, designing and editing this publication: Dana Salama, Batoul Faour, Saaraa Premji, Kira James and Aidan Qualizza, as well as the graphic designer Anna Toshkova, who designed the cover of this publication.

PROLOGUE

BY SHERIDAN BURKE

All too often modern heritage places are under pressure, overlooked, and undervalued.

In February 2019, key members from the Order of Architects of Morocco, conservation groups, and architects working on the conservation of modern heritage from Egypt, Morocco, Lebanon, Algeria, Jordan, and Tunisia gathered in Sidi Harazem, Morocco, to discuss the issues facing the modern heritage in the Global South—specifically to examine how benchmark conservation planning processes could be adapted and used in their contexts.

The generous support of the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern (KIM) program brought participants to Sidi Harazem in Morocco at the invitation of Aziza Chaouni, engineer and architect, a Fez local and a global citizen. Aziza and her team of architects, engineers, researchers, and photographers were engaged in the task of preparing a Conservation Management Plan (CMP) for the extraordinary Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex designed by Casablanca-born modernist architect Jean-Francois Zevaco in 1960. Aziza Chaouni completed the CMP for Sidi Harazem in December 2019.

The ambition for the Sidi Harazem workshop was to raise awareness in the Global South, and specifically the MENA region about current methods of planning for the conservation of modern heritage. Participants were introduced to two key tools: the Conservation Management Plan process used by the Keeping It Modern program and the

international guidance charter Approaches for the Conservation of 20th-Century Cultural Heritage of ICOMOS International Scientific Committee on 20thCentury Heritage

The workshop showcased in-depth presentations of the work produced by KIM program grantees from Turkey, India, Kosovo, Uruguay, USA, Australia, Ghana, Lebanon, and Brazil. The case studies demonstrated how the same basic process of conservation management planning can be adapted into diverse cultural and regional contexts.

Being on-site at the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex provided the opportunity to see the site-specific issues first-hand, facilitating crossregional networking among participants during the workshop. Further site visits in Fes and Casablanca demonstrated the extraordinary inheritance of some of the twentieth-century planning and architectural heritage in Morocco.

Knowledge exchanges such as this workshop provide invaluable experiences and tools to support participants developing innovative and exemplary methods for assessing significance, an opportunity to develop policies with the potential for regional adaptation.

Many thanks are due to the workshop organizers, sponsors, speakers, and participants for sharing their knowledge and experience of modern heritage under pressure, demonstrating new pathways and opportunities for its proactive conservation.

Sheridan Burke ICOMOS ISC20C

Too many of the heritage places and sites of the twentiethcentury remain at risk. Although appreciation of mid-century modernism is increasing in some regions, the range of buildings, structures, cultural landscapes and industrial sites that are characteristic of the twentieth century are still threatened by a general lack of awareness and recognition. All too often they are pressured by redevelopment, unsympathetic change, or simply by neglect.¹

¹ ICOMOS ISC20C Approaches to the Conservation of Modern Cultural Heritage (The Madrid New Delhi Document) 2017.

INTRODUCTION

BY AZIZA CHAOUNI

My first memorable encounter with a modern, brutalist building dates from my childhood. As a young girl growing up in Fez, Morocco I often accompanied my late grandmother to the Thermal Bath in Sidi Harazem where she swam, drank from the hot spring water, and prayed to recover from her painful rheumatisms.

Designed in the 1960s by Jean-François Zevaco in an oasis located ten kilometres outside of Fez, the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex was a popular leisure, health, and spiritual destination attracting Moroccans from all over the country (figure 1).

I recall my initial reaction—feeling fearful of the imposing behemoth which was unlike anything I had encountered before. I quickly became enthralled. Zevaco’s Thermal Bath existed beyond my wildest dreams. A palm tree oasis and concrete ‘city’ emerged abruptly from a landscape of cascading hills. The city was actually a tapestry filled with delicate filigree canopies, drinking fountains, blue mosaic-covered basins, constructed waterfalls, pools, labyrinthian pathways with pergolas covered in bougainvilleas, floating stairs suspended by thin cables, a market covered in concrete pyramids, and a building as large as a cargo ship raised on V-shaped columns (figure 3). It was a child’s paradise, a captivating adventureland that stood in stark contrast to the outside world I was accustomed to.

Zevaco’s Thermal Bath Complex not only represented new ways of building and making public spaces, but also offered a reinterpretation of Moroccan vernacular architecture—weaving water, gardens, courtyards and buildings in unexpected ways. It’s likely that the seeds of my interest in architecture

were planted during my visits to the Thermal Bath with my grandmother.

After starting my architectural education in 2000, I came to understand that the station’s heroic architecture fell within the corpus of brutalism, which Simon Phipps poetically describes as “an architecture of sensorial extremes,” offering “an extraordinary and unfamiliar experience to the visitor.”2 My nostalgia was tainted by the station’s decline, partial shut-down, and its abandoned architecture. Still, its aura remained unscathed. The station’s architecture shone brightly despite the addition of new buildings, the gradual emergence of informal markets, and the invasion of moss, rust, and nature.

My curiosity was sparked and I began studying the Thermal Station’s history. The stark lack of literature briefly halted my efforts. There was nothing written on Zevaco’s Thermal Bath Complex. Locals, the general public, and the professional architectural milieu in Morocco did not know of or appreciate the site and its exceptional architecture. By then, the Bath’s architect Jean-François Zevaco was old and ill, and after his passing in 2003 the archives of his work were quickly dispersed. This magical place which had captured my imagination as a child was dissipating before my eyes. Knowledge about the Bath’s genesis, construction, and architectural innovation was likely to follow the same fate.

Almost two decades later I received the support of Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern grant and embarked on developing a conservation management plan for Zevaco’s Thermal Bath Complex. The lack of awareness about the Bath’s architecture and Morocco’s twentieth-century

heritage from the post-colonial era was still staggering. This was offset by the emergence of few laudable initiatives led by NGOs such as MAMMA Group and L’Atelier de L’Observatoire.

Unfortunately the dismissal of modern heritage is a global phenomenon. Few modern buildings are included in the World Heritage List. Common threats to modern architecture include the obsolescence of modern buildings, urban development pressures, land speculation, the inadequacy of preservation laws, the scarcity of methodological approaches, and a systemic lack of public recognition. If efforts to preserve twentieth-century heritage can be traced to the listing of Gropius’ Bauhaus in 1963 and Brasilia in 1987, it was only in the 1990s that the conservation of modern heritage emerged as a distinct area of practice.3

Around the same time numerous local, national, and international organizations dedicated to safeguarding and conserving modern heritage were formed: chiefly DOCOMOMO International and its national chapters and ICOMOS 20th-Century Heritage Group.4 Their exemplary advocacy worked at the level of governments, the general public, and professionals towards the idea that modern heritage’s intrinsic qualities (technological, material, and cultural) are worth safeguarding. These advocacy groups have been instrumental at sharing and disseminating knowledge between countries such as sharing Heritage Alerts,5 approaches to conservation, awareness campaigns, conservation policy development and implementation, and technical expertise.

The Keeping It Modern (KIM) program launched by the Getty Foundation in 2014 is one such initiative,

ASIA/ PACIFIC EUROPE/ NORTH AMERICA

LATIN AMERICA/ CARRIBEAN

Figure 1: World Heritage list entries per region, UNESCO.

promoting the preservation of modern heritage by offering grants and training workshops. The case studies presented in this publication are by several KIM grantees who have operated in the Global South.

If modern heritage is underrepresented in the World Heritage List, modern architecture from the Global South is even more of a scarcity (figure 2). At the turn of the millennium, UNESCO recognized the underrepresentation of sites from the Global South across all of the categories on the World Heritage List. ICOMOS was commissioned to assess these gaps.

The resulting 2004 advisory report The World Heritage List: Filling the Gaps - An Action Plan for the Future evaluated the World Heritage List based on regional provenance and timeline. It proposed the creation of a specific category for modern heritage - which was part of a lump category called 'special category'- and noted that Africa was missing altogether from the heritage in this category.6 Latin America, the Caribbean, and Southeast Asia were also lagging far behind. In the aftermath of this report, UNESCO created a modern heritage category and committed to implementing a “global strategy for a representative, credible and balanced World Heritage List.”7

Still, the representation gap persisted. Cited causes include the disinterest of developing nations in heritage preservation which is not considered as an economic priority and the lack of importance given to heritage from the recent past. The institutional rejection of modern heritage in the Global South is intimately intertwined with not-so-distant colonial pasts, echoing issues of dependency and unequal

power relations between the center (Europe and North America) and the periphery (the Global South)—tensions which persist today. Gwendolyn Wright reminds us that we tend to “forget that modernism came into being in a world framed by colonialism where visions for improvement and innovation overlapped with and often caused brutal destruction.”8 The instrumentalization of modern architecture and urbanism as tools for exploitation and domination were carefully analyzed by Wright, Abu Lughod,9 and Rabinow10 in Morocco, Zeynep Celik in Algeria,11 Schlter in Douala,12 and Mia Fuller in Italian colonies.13

Interestingly, but perhaps not surprisingly, even modern heritage erected in post-colonial contexts in the Global South does not escape rejection by the general public and institutional bodies in those regions. This dismissal can be explained by the notion that buildings in the post-colonial era were often designed by Western architects in a seemingly rational, culturally neutral, and universalizing language mimicking the aesthetics of imperial power—and were thus perceived as a blatant extension of colonialism. It can also be argued that the choice of modernism’s architectural aesthetic was neither an imposition nor an unalloyed import in post-colonial nation-states. Modernism was purposefully chosen by nascent states after colonization to express technological progress and construct their new identities. The culturally specific manifestations of the Modern Movement that resulted were the product of transnational networks that were contingent, selective, and contested—appropriatly coined by anthropologist Christopher Rausch as ‘heritage assemblages.’14

Figure 2: The hotel at the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station, lifted on pilotis.

The widespread vilification of modern heritage in the Global South subsists, regardless of the era of its erection. By extension the act of preserving modern heritage is perceived as an imported, exogeneous endeavor, "often developed and consumed outside of the developing countries’ borders, a Western nostalgia far removed from the countries" pressing needs and a hindrance to their current development ambitions.

Paradoxically the buildings and infrastructures that were once instruments of modernization and political autonomy are today the remnants of a past that failed to deliver its promise of a utopian future.

The problematization of ‘modern heritage’ in the Global South demonstrates that a new framework is needed to carefully examine the shifting meanings of heritage from the recent past within the cultural, economic, social, and political landscapes of the near future. More critically, how can architects safeguard modern heritage buildings, landscapes, and infrastructures when literature applicable to their contexts is scarce? Where can information on tools and approaches relevant to the restoration of modern architecture in the Global South be found?

Over the past two decades, modernism from the periphery has known an accrued interest from scholars and curators – of note are Sarah Williams Goldhagen’s Anxious Modernisms, Duanfang Lu’s Third World Modernism, and the proceedings of the 2006 DOCOMOMO conference Other Modernisms–critiquing the exclusive and teleological histories of modernism centred on North America and Europe. Yet, there is limited scholarship on the approaches and tools needed for the conservation of modern heritage in the Global South. A common

presumption is that techniques successfully tested in the Global North can be successfully transferred to the Global South. However, the exacerbated tensions around modern heritage in developing nations require specific strategies suited to a context with limited financial resources, expertise, and where the recognition of modern heritage significance is lacking.

This publication aims to fill this gap by presenting seven case-studies from across the Global South, showcasing completed or in-progress conservation management plans (CMPs).15 The CMP is a roadmap that guides long-term maintenance and conservation policies based on the thorough investigation of the original design intentions, current building conditions, and the testing and analysis of modern materials.

This publications’ case studies emerged from a seminar supported by the Getty Foundation Keeping It Modern (KIM) program titled Modern Heritage Under Pressure: Perspectives from the Global South, which I had the honour of organizing and hosting at Zevaco’s Thermal Bath Complex in February 2019. KIM is an international grant initiative by the Getty Foundation that promotes the safeguarding of heritage from the twentiethcentury. The seminar invited eight architects who were awarded the KIM grant to develop a CMP for modern heritage buildings or complexes of significance located in the Global South. The seminar in Sidi Harazem was a place to share methodologies towards the development of their Conservation Management Plans (CMPs) in Global South contexts.

Seven of the eight cases studies presented at the seminar were chosen to be included in the publication: Niemeyer’s International and Permanent Fairground of Lebanon presented by Maya Hmeidan, Jean-Francois Zevaco’s Sidi Harazem (Morocco) by Aziza Chaouni, Andrija Mutnjaković’s National Library of Kosovo by Bekim Benku, Pierre Jeanneret’s Gandhi Bhawan (India) by Shikha Jain, Eladio Dieste’s Parochial Church of Atlántida (Uruguay) by Ciro Caraballo, and Altuğ and Behruz Çinici’s METU Faculty of Architecture (Turkey) by Ayşen Savaş. At the time of the seminar, four of the case studies had completed CMPs (National Library of Kosovo, Parochial Church of Atlántida, METU Faculty of Architecture and Gandhi Bhawan) one was in the middle of the CMP development process (Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex) and one was starting the process (International Fair Grounds of

Figure 3: Model and questionnaire used during co-design workshops for the conservation masterplan of the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath.

Lebanon). Maya Hmeidan and Chaouni, with their CMPs in progress, focused on the data collection phase while the others presented an overall view of their completed CMPs, two choosing to focus on the phases they judged to be the most crucial: raising awareness for Savas and assessing the significance and developing policies for Jain. Beyond their location in the Global South, the seven selected case studies share several traits: (1) they were all built in the latter half of the twentiethcentury by post-colonial nation-states, (2) all seven case-studies are public buildings, (3) their proponents received a Keeping It Modern (KIM) grant, (4) their conservation strategy is driven by a conservation management plan (CMP) approach, and (5) the CMP effort is led by local leadership with roots in the site’s country or region. Both the

KIM grant and the CMP approach it promulgates enable modern heritage transnational networks or, in other terms, of global heritage assemblages. However neither the KIM grant requirements nor the CMP framework are prescriptive or topdown: while they set general goals to achieve a comprehensive conservation plan, the refinement of these goals and the implementation of corresponding methodologies can be adjusted by each team to account for contextual conditions and the specific needs of building owners. For example, the CMP of Lina Bo Bardi’s at-risk Museum focused on the building’s distinctive structure which was not yet fully understood, while the CMP for Zevaco’s Thermal Bath Complex and Niemeyer’s Fair developed conservation masterplan and typical rehabilitation solutions to address common problems plaguing the complexes and their structures.

The KIM grant is awarded to the building owner, creating conditions which promote conservation as a local, collaborative effort led by teams of local practitioners. This banalizes the practice of conservation , an important task in countries such as Morocco, India and Lebanon where modernism is still widely associated with colonialism and is therefore often dismissed.

Even though the case studies’ CMPs are unique, each loosely follows the methodology derived from the Burra Charter Process16 and refined by the Getty Foundation, which comprises seven main phases : 1) understand the place; 2) assess significance; 3) identify all factors and issues; 4) develop policy, 5) prepare a management plan, 6) implement the management plan, and 7) monitor the results and review the plan. These phases are

not intended to form a rigid framework, but rather, as Sheridan Burke states in her chapter outlining the CMP process, to inform “a simple logical development” that progresses from understanding the site, assessing significance and collecting data, to formulating and implementing policies to protect significance in the long term. The involvement of stakeholders to raise awareness, build consensus, and share the CMP process can be deployed throughout the aforementioned seven phases.

The analysis in the essays enclosed in this publication is done through the prism of the six of the seven aforementioned phases – given that, as of the publication date of this essay, the CMPs of the case studies are still in the process of being implemented - sheds light not only on a more refined framework for modern heritage conservation in the Global South, but also on leitmotifs about the challenges faced during each one of these phases.

1UNDERSTAND THE PLACE

Understanding the socio-political context in which a modern building or complex was commissioned, designed, and built forms the foundation of the CMPs used in all seven casestudies. Interestingly, all of the case studies in this publication were built in the 1960s and 1970s and share the same desire to express a modern national identity while incorporating vernacular techniques and aesthetics—a trait common to many modern buildings in the Global South.

In Lebanon, Morocco, and Kosovo national identities were formed as a counter-reaction to recent colonial pasts; which ended respectively in 1943 (Lebanon),

1956 (Morocco) , while the Yugoslav government granted Kosovo autonomous status as a region of Serbia in 1946 and as a province in 1973. These political conditions cannot be separated from the incorporation of regional specificities into modern public buildings built for newly-formed states.

Turkey embraced a similar approach, a deliberate countermovement by young architectural vanguards against Hiltonism, a term coined by architectural critic Şevki Vanli to describe the uncritical deployment of the International Style in his country during the nineteen fifties.17 In the METU Faculty of Architecture Building, and in its campus at large, this sentiment was embodied through the integration of local materials and landscape features used to create microclimatic effects, thereby transforming the dry site into a lush environment.18

In Uruguay, Dieste opted for the use of concrete instead of brick to build ruled surfaces, at a time when his contemporaries (including Eero Saarinen and Félix Candela) opted for concrete. Dieste made the unusual choice to capitalize on the availability and affordability of a local material, and to ensure labourers possessed the expertise to complete the work. The use of brick not only made economic sense, but also allowed for his Atlantida Church to seamlessly insert itself within a long tradition of construction in Uruguay and Latin America.

2

ASSESS SIGNIFICANCE

Assessing the significance of a modern heritage building enables teams to not only prioritize key components for preservation within the CMP but also legitimizes the importance of safeguarding a work. The significance of modern

heritage can be assessed on many different levels: vis à vis its impact on the international, regional and local architectural arenas of its era; the political, cultural, and social symbols it embodies; its relationship to similar typologies; its structural, material, and programmatic innovations; the prominence of the architect, and others.

While assessing the significance of the buildings, teams faced a similar problem. Operating outside of the Western world, the original architects they were researching were unknown, and critical literature interpreting their work was scarce. While Oscar Niemeyer, Pierre Jeanneret, Behrouz and Altuğ Çinici, Lina Bo Bardi, and Eladio Dieste (even though the latter three had only recently received recognition) were widely studied, two other KIM grantees’ architects were barely known beyond the architectural circles in their countries—despite the originality and quality of their work.

While Zevaco’s work was unknown both locally and internationally, Mutnjaković received some local recognition. When the CMP for the National Library of Kosovo commenced in 2016, Mutnjakovic’s library had only a few academic references written in languages other than Serbo-Croatian.19 The most notable reference in English was Udo Kultermann’s 1993 book Architecture in Former Yugoslavia. 20 Later, the catalogue of the 2018 MOMA exhibition Concrete Utopia: Architecture in Yugoslavia, 19481980 introduced for the first time the remarkable modernist production of Socialist Yugoslavia to an international audience.

Similarly, Zevaco’s original body of work, which fully blossomed after Morocco’s independence in 1956, is sparsely documented. Moroccan post-colonial

architectural production was discussed mainly in architecture journals from the 1960s and 1970s, Udo Kultermann’s pivotal book New Architecture in Africa (1963),21 and more recently in a chapter in the SOS Brutalism22 publication that accompanied the eponymous exhibition.

The lack of local and international recognition for an architect practicing in the Global South renders the task of establishing his buildings’ significance arduous. Justifications have to be developed from the ground up based on thorough research which considers the political, economic, social, and cultural context surrounding the site’s construction. In addition, the overall body of work of the architects, their peers, and their contemporaries needs to be understood, even with the limited resources available.

The seven case studies display a wide range of significance values. For the Church of Atlantidá, its significance was embodied in its technical and constructive innovations that push the limits of concrete shell structures with an unprecedented economy of means and the creative approaches to daylighting. For the METU Faculty of Architecture, its multifaceted significance included its continuing role as a beacon for architectural education in Turkey, its material and technical innovation, its integration of landscape and artwork, and its setting in a modern campus first of its kind in the country. For the Gandhi Bhawan which was part of the Panjab University Campus, significance was carefully categorized. First, the building’s significance was assessed within three thematic processes of twentieth-century India: ‘National Identity,’ ‘Campus Building,’ and ‘Urban Architectural Ensemble’. Then, its cultural significance was established

Figure 4: The arid mountain landscape around the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station as seen from Zevaco's complex.

through prisms of historic, aesthetic, architectural, and intercultural values.

3

IDENTIFY ALL FACTORS AND ISSUES

Collecting data on the history, evolution, and current state of a modern heritage building is necessary to fully grasp the context, physical attributes, and to provide a deeper understanding of the place.

Teams meticulously gathered information from a wide array of sources including archival drawings, construction site reports, correspondence between the architect and other stakeholders, newspaper clippings, brochures, academic journals, publications, TV footage, videos, photos, oral histories, and site visits. Data gathering is particularly difficult in the Global South, where architectural archives are rarely institutionalized and are often spread between several parties and locations (often various countries). How can the intentions of the modernist architect be deciphered when archival information is missing? What if the design is partially realized, or if it has experienced alterations? In some cases such as Sidi Harazem or Neimeyer's International and Permanent Fairground of Lebanon where no full drawing sets could be retrieved, the CMP teams used a series of inventive tactics to offset data missing from the original designs. Sidi Harazem, for example, had original buildings and landscapes that had been obstructed by informal additions, and site elements that bore the marks of two poorly executed rehabilitation efforts. The task of determining original material was exceedingly difficult. The project team circumvented these challenges by relying on oral histories—

conducting a series of interviews with Zevaco’s colleagues, staff, family, as well as with visitors and staff of the Thermal Bath Complex. A social media campaign titled Sidi Harazem, Je Me Souviens was deployed to encourage the general public to submit images of the Thermal Bath Complex and share their memories of the place. All of the information was assembled and allowed the team to draw a full masterplan of the site (which did not exist as a document), and to rediscover site elements that had been lost through previous rehabilitations.

Similarly, Niemeyer’s Fair in Tripoli was never fully realized. Its construction was halted by the Lebanese Civil War which erupted in 1975. Original drawings were remained incomplete. The CMP team faced similar challenges to Sidi Harazem, and relied on in-depth research to retrieve archival materials dispersed between Lebanon and Brazil. An extensive tracing and interviewing process recorded narratives from people related to the project; contractors, consultants, construction workers, and the inhabitants of Tripoli. A shared online database allowed members in Lebanon and Brazil to deposit all of the information that was retrieved. In turn, this living archive allowed the CMP team to fill in the blanks.

Perseverance and creativity are necessary traits to retrieve missing data. When original drawings cannot be retrieved at all, relying on oral accounts and crowdsourced knowledge are necessary.

Once information is assembled, a diagnosis of the current condition of the modern heritage work is necessary. This is meticulous work—outlining the morphology of the site or building to identify the changes that occurred over time. Then, the CMP

team develops an understanding of the material, technical and programmatic problems, thereby informing conservation policies and their level of urgency.

Using data found about the original design, the multidisciplinary KIM grantee teams led onsite visits and surveys where they carefully studied the physical state of materials, furniture, appliances structural elements, as well as electrical, mechanical, and plumbing infrastructures. In addition, teams evaluated the building’s usages, management, maintenance, and monitoring. As a result all alterations and issues were charted and their causes were defined whenever possible. A variety of tools were employed to diagnose and verify damage such as the detailed study of the concrete panels of the facades of the Gandhi Bhawan and the development of a 3D structural analysis model in the Museum of Modern Art of São Paolo.

To summarize the findings and make them legible to stakeholders Shikha Jain and her team used tables while Aziza Chaouni used formatted sheets that cross-reference original drawings and current photos, marking all changes throughout.23

Recurring damages cited in the case studies are prevalent amid aging modern heritage worldwide: the oxidation of steel reinforcement, concrete cracks and spalling, concrete discoloration, obsolete electrical and plumbing systems, or recent additions that altered spatial qualities and materials.

A lack of maintenance and monitoring, poor funding, and low understanding of modern heritage value were common culprits that led to the damage of the various buildings and sites.

These issues also create challenges for long-term conservation efforts by undermining their viability. The non-existence of modern heritage listings and bylaws that promote conservation causes further threats to modern heritage in the Global South. It can sometimes result not only in insensitive programmatic shifts, like the rental of a floor as an office space in the National Library of Kosovo but also in abandonment and neglect like Neimeyer's International and Permanent Fairgound of Lebanon and portions of the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex.

4DEVELOP POLICY AND PREPARE A MANAGEMENT PLAN

The wide range of CMPs24 to conserve and sustain significance of the seven case studies demonstrates the versatility and flexibility of a conservation management approach that closely responds to the building’s needs, its context, and is rooted in research. The Gandhi Bhawan’s CMP directly referenced existing frameworks for the conservation of twentiethth-century structures such as the Madrid Document (Second Edition) of the ICOMOS-ISC2025 and the Eindhoven-Seoul Statement 2014 by DOCOMOMO International,26 while others developed their own conservation value systems that were crafted to suit their specific needs.

The seven CMPs also differed in their scope and scale. For instance, the CMPs for the Sidi Harazem Bath Complex which was still in-progress during the KIMMHUP workshop as well as Neimeyer's Permanent and International Fairground of Lebanon aimed to develop conservation masterplans at the

level of their entire sites while detailing solutions for specific elements. The Thermal Bath CMP outlined solutions for recurring technical problems while the Fair focussed on one building. Interestingly, both projects also faced strong development pressures and worked to integrate community and stakeholder collaboration throughout their CMP process.

On the other hand, the CMP for Lina Bo Bardi’s Museum of Modern Art of São Paolo concentrated on the building’s most significant feature, its structure, and focused conservation policies on solutions to fix the structural damage and ensure its long term safety.

The CMP for the Kosovo National Library followed a more conservative approach and proposed policies regarding specific features that were damaged or could likely affect the library’s integrity—focussing on structure, plumbing, additions, drainage, lighting, security, and the surrounding landscape.

The Gandhi Bhawan proposed a CMP where all conservation uses and interpretation proposals respect the two following values: (1) be mindful of the building’s sculptural form and symbolism as conceptualized by Pierre Jeanneret and his team and (2) that all of its elements should be the core focus behind any physical intervention.

The CMP for the METU Faculty of Architecture moved beyond typical preservation and repair tasks, and focused on strategies for raising awareness through a wide array of media including local and international exhibitions, design courses, publications, alumni outreach, a social media campaign, and a 3D model that combines photographic survey, diagnosis results, and

archival material. The CMP’s emphasis on outreach helped elevate the status of the building among the general public and affect the opinion of decisionmakers at the campus level. As a result, they came to see the METU Faculty of Architecture as an asset to Turkey’s cultural history as well as a key component of the University’s legacy and image on the national and international stage.

The Church of Atlantidá’s CMP focused on tactics to foster adaptability and resilience. The CMP proposed seventy-two conservation actions that can be adjusted to suit damage types, execution schedules, financing opportunities, and sociopolitical conditions surrounding the project. The seventy-two actions were organized by the level of urgency surrounding the damage, and the level of significance of specific features within three timeframes: short, medium and long-term. As such, this CMP approach seems particularly well suited to the limited funds available for conservation in the Global South and its fluctuating socioeconomic and political contexts.

5IMPLEMENT THE MANAGEMENT PLAN

Only the Church of Atlantidá in Uruguay has successfully implemented a portion of its CMP. Two others are on a good path to launch the implementation of their conservation policies. Indeed, phase one of the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex CMP is expected to start in the Fall 2020 with the rehabilitation of Zevaco’s craft market and its transformation into an exhibition space, while the Gandhi Bhawan received a 2020 KIM grant to restore the water basin and landscape surrounding the building.

These outcomes of the KIM program are both underwhelming and hopeful. They illustrate the persisting obstacles which prevent the conservation of modern heritage in the Global South; chiefly the recognition of modern heritage value and the commitment to funding the work necessary to protect these sites. Also, the success of the Church of Atlantidá should be nuanced since only the most pressing component of its CMP, the replacement of its roof, was implemented thanks to the support of the building owner, the Catholic Church, a well-funded entity. The wealthy and independent status of the Church should not overshadow the incredible lobbying work and awareness campaigns led by Circo Carabello. His tireless work brought recognition to Dieste as an important Uruguayan figure, through efforts such as the Dieste toolkit developed with the Ministry of Education in Uruguay. Ciro traveled between Uruguay and Mexico tirelessly, demonstrating the power of activism at the scale of one person. Ciro’s dedication confirms that it is possible to move mountains: seek funds internationally, change entrenched mentalities, respect the original intentions of the architect, and maintain the quality of the restoration against all odds.

Figure 5: Clay and wooden traditional water vessels used at the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station.

Figure 6: A screenshot of the interview with Jordanian architect Ammar Khammash at Sidi Harazem as part of the KIMMHUP workshop. The full video can be seen at: www.kimmhup.com.

CONCLUSION

The seven case studies presented in this publication offer diverse methodological roadmaps for modern conservation in the Global South and highlight useful tools to handle prevalent hurdles such as the dispersal of archives, informality, development pressures, a lack of awareness, and precarious funds.

A brief comparison of the seven cases studies revealed that the monetary limit of the KIM grant resulted at times in incomplete conservation policies, which required further financial support— often to complete costly structural or material analyses or to facilitate a deeper focus on features of secondary or tertiary importance. Illustrations of this limitation are the two largest case studies— the Fair Grounds in Tripoli and the Thermal Bath Complex, whose individual buildings and landscape deserve a CMP in their own right. Similarly, the CMP for the Museum of Modern Art in São Paolo which focused on the building’s structure left other features of secondary significance understudied, such as the museum’s plaza and its landscape. These remain potential topics for further conservation studies.

With modern heritage preservation being still a nascent field in the Global South, the case studies presented in this publication and led by local architects offer insightful and unique experiences, enriched with access to international expertise and networks made possible through the KIM program. Throughout their processes, the case studies’ conservation plans were shared and discussed through a series of seminars held in London with the support of the 20th-Century Foundation and conservation experts Sheridan Burke and Susan

Macdonald. The KIM grant also enabled costly technical tests and access to international expertise, which would have otherwise been out of reach in the Global South. As such, these case studies stand as expectations. Yet they act as harbingers for the potentials of rehabilitated modern heritage.

ENDNOTES

1. Author Unknown, "Approaches to the Conservation of Modern Cultural Heritage (The Madrid New Delhi Document)." ICOMOS ISC20C, (2017).

2. Simon, Phipps, Brutal Outer London, (Tewkesebury: September Publishing, 2023).

3. Susan, Macdonald, "Modern Matters: Breaking the Barriers to Conserving Modern Heritage.” Conservation Perspectives 28, 1(2013): p.1

4. ICOMOS is an acronym for the International Council on Monuments and Sites. It is a non-governmental organization of professionals formed in 1965 with its headquarters in Paris. Its members participate in its activities in a voluntary capacity.

5. "Heritage Alert." ICOMOS. 2020. https://www.icomos.org/ en/get-involved/inform-us/heritage-alert.

6. Jukka, Jokilehto, "The World Heritage List: Filling the Gaps—An Action Plan for the Future." ICOMOS, (2004): p.15.

7. "Global Strategy for a Representative and Balance World Heritage List." UNESCO. 2020. http://whc.unesco.org/en/ globalstrategy/.

8. Gwendolyn, Wright, "Building Global Modernisms." Grey Room 6, (2002): p.125.

9. Janet L., Abu-Lughod, Rabat: Urban Apartheid in Morocco, (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1981).

10. Paul, Rabinow, Colonialism, Modernity: the French in Morocco, in Forms of Dominance: On the Architecture and Urbanism of the Colonial Enterprise, ed. Al-Sayyad (Brookfield, VT: Avebury Publishing, 1992). p. 170-82.

11. Zeynep, Celik, Urban Forms and Colonial Confrontations: Algiers under French Rule, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1997).

12. Lynn, Schler, "Ambiguous Spaces: the Struggle Over African Identities and Urban Communities in Colonial Douala, 1914-45.” Journal of African History 44, 1 (2003): p. 51-72.

13. Mia, Fuller, "Building Power: Italian Architecture and Urbanism in Libya and Ethiopia." in Forms of Dominance. On the Architecture and Urbanism of the Colonial Enterprise, ed. Nezar AlSayyad (Aldershot, Brookfield: Avebury, 1992), p. 211–39.

14. Christopher Rausch describes Global Heritage Assemblages as transnational networks of governmental, intergovernmental, and nongovernmental organizations, as well as private individuals and corporate actors who engage with modern heritage in the form of colonial and postcolonial architecture and urban planning. Christoph, Rausch, Global Heritage Assemblages : Development and Modern Architecture in Africa, (New York, NY : Routledge, 2017).

15. The Conservation Management Plan (CMP), a strategic roadmap for conservation detailed in the first chapter of this publication by the modern heritage expert Sheridan Burke, has seven phases: 1) understand the place, 2) assess cultural significance, 3) identify all factors and issues and 4) develop policy, 5) prepare a management plan, 6) implement the management plan, and 7) monitor the result and review the plan.

16. ICOMOS, The Burra Charter: The Australia ICOMOS Charter for Places of Cultural Significance, (Burwood, Australia: Australia ICOMOS Incorporated, 2013).

17. Critiquing Turkish architects’ uncritical transfer of modern architecture at the time, the Turkish architectural critic coined the term Hiltonism in his seminal 1958 article, published in the weekly news magazine Kim, titled: "Hiltonculuk". Vanli, Sevki, "Hiltonculuk," Kim-Haftalik Haber Dergisi (November 28, 1958), p. 21-22.

18. Eren, Gazioglu, "Politics and architecture in Turkey (1923 – 1960)." Estudo Prévio 11, Centro de Estudos de Arquitecture, Cidade e Território da Universidade Autónoma de Lisboa, (2017): p.14.

19. For a thorough bibliography of Andrija Mutnjaković’s works please refer to: http://info.hazu.hr/en/member_of_academy/personal_pages/a_mutnjakovic_en/a_mutnjakovic_bibl_en/ retrieved July 15th 2020.

20. Udo, Kultermann, Architecture in Former Yugoslavia, in Architecture in the 20th Century (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1993).

21. Udo, Kultermann, New Architecture in Africa, in Architecture in the 20th Century (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1993).

22. Aziza, Chaouni, "Agadir: the Coming of Age of Morocco's Post-Independence Modernism." Essay. In SOS Brutalism, (Zürich: Park Books, 2017). p. 52–57.

23. The diagnosis phase of the Sidi Harazem project was not completed at the time of the KIMMHUP workshop and hence it is not described in the chapter on Sidi Harazem in this publication.

24. The complete CMPs of all KIM grantees included in this publication, in addition to CMPs of grantees since the program inception in 2012 can be found in this website: https:// www.kimmhup.com/

25. Author Unknown, "Approaches to the Conservation of Modern Cultural Heritage (The Madrid New Delhi Document)." ICOMOS ISC20C, (2017).

26. "Eindhoven-Seoul Statement 2014." DOCOMOMO International, (2014). Accessed June 2020. http://www.DOCOMOMO. com/pdfs/about/eindhoven/051623_110638_2014-09-26 Eindhoven-Seoul Statement 2014.pdf

CONSERVING MODERN HERITAGE PLACES UNDER PRESSURE

THE ROLE OF CONSERVATION MANAGEMENT PLANS

BY SHERIDAN BURKE, AUSTRALIA

CONSERVING MODERN HERITAGE PLACES UNDER PRESSURE

The Role of Conservation Management Plans

Too many of the heritage places and sites of the twentieth-century remain at risk. Although appreciation of mid-century modernism is increasing in some regions, the range of buildings, structures, cultural landscapes and industrial sites that are characteristic of the twentieth century are still threatened by a general lack of awareness and recognition. All too often they are pressured by redevelopment, unsympathetic change, or simply by neglect.1

The sweeping economic, social, technological, and political developments of the twentieth century produced unprecedented change. Two World Wars, the Cold War that followed, the Great Depression, and decolonization all significantly altered the fabric of society over the course of the twentieth century.

Rapid urbanization and the growth of large cities, accelerated technological and scientific development along with the emergence of mass communications and transportation— fundamentally changed the way we lived and worked—producing new buildings and structures, unprecedented building types and forms, often using experimental materials and construction techniques. Massively changed landscapes were created through industrialization and mechanized agriculture.

And yet, comparatively few of the sites and places created by such tumultuous events have been listed and protected for their heritage values.

Figure 1a: Sirius Public Housing, Australia.

1 SIX BUILDINGS OF MODERN HERITAGE VALUE- SIX STORIES OF THREAT

The obligation to conserve and manage the heritage places and sites of the twentieth century is as pressing and important as our duty to conserve the significant cultural heritage of previous eras.

However, behind almost every modern heritage site conserved there is also pressure for change. Converting a lack of appreciation for the site into growing respect and pride by resolving a range of maintenance, material, and use-related issues is necessary.

This essay includes several such stories, to share experiences and introduce key management tools that will support the future of modern heritage conservation;

1. the Conservation Management Plan process, as is used by the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern (KIM) program and

2. Approaches for the Conservation of TwentiethCentury Cultural Heritage prepared by the ICOMOS International Scientific Committee on Twentieth Century Heritage (ISC20C).

Many modern buildings, structures and landscapes around the world are under threat- here are six which are presently under threat. They are all the subject of international Heritage Alerts by the ICOMOS Twentieth Century Heritage International Scientific Committee.

All too often the heritage values of significant Modern heritage sites are not understood, or appreciated, but over the last decade this has begun to change.

Figure 1b: Y Block, Norway.

1.1 THE VIKING SHIP HALL IN ROSKILDE, DENMARK (1967-68)

This design by Erik Sorenson was the first late modern building to be listed for protection in Denmark in 1998. Following dramatic floods in 2013 and a subsequent escalation of structural issues, the Danish Minister of Culture Mette Bock- against the advice of her own experts and the advice of the Department of Culture- decided to de-list the building. The Roskilde Viking Ship Museum intends to demolish the building.

1.2 THE AL SAWABER COMPLEX, KUWAIT (1977)

This housing complex was constructed in 1981 to a design by Canadian architect, Arthur Erickson. Currently proposed for demolition after a long period of vacancy, it occupies a large and very valuable site in the centre of the city of Kuwait.2

1.3 MIYANONOJO KAIKAN, JAPAN (1966)

Metabolist architect Kiyonori Kikutake’s civic hall has been vacant for ten years and virtually without maintenance during its lease to a University. Demolition was recently approved by the Miyazaki Prefecture Council, despite international alerts issued by DOCOMOMO and ICOMOS.3

Figure 1c: Miyanonojo Kaikan, Japan.

1.4 SIRIUS BUILDING IN SYDNEY (1978)

Canadian architect Tao Gofers designed this public housing complex currently being converted for use as luxury apartments. The property was sold following the state government’s decision to refuse heritage listing in 2017—against the advice of the Heritage Council of New South Wales. The building was put up for sale with development or demolition as options.4

1.5 MOSCOW RADIO TOWER, MOSCOW (1919-1922)

Vladimir Shukhov designed this pioneering hyperboloid steel structure. The tower construction is an entirely Russian concept that influenced structural engineering and architectural creativity for over a century globally. It is one of the modern icons of our time. No longer in use, a lack of maintenance threatens the Shukhov Tower.

1.6 Y BLOCK, OSLO (1969 )

Designed by Erling Viksjø, the Y Block is comprised of two buildings. They are Norway’s most important symbols of post-World War II optimism, representing a belief in international democracy, dialogue, and openness. The project included artistic contributions from Pablo Picasso to the building facades. Overriding extensive local and international protests, the Norwegian government proposes its demolition after damage from a terrorist attack and ongoing security concerns for the site.

These buildings and structures at risk share a common trait: they each (initially) lacked public awareness of their heritage significance. This led to a lack of popular support and absence of political will to conserve them. Sometimes lack the appropriate methods and technical approaches to effectively conserve them was also evident.

Figure 1d: Al Sawber Complex, Kuwait.

The obligation to conserve and manage the heritage places and sites of the twentieth century is as pressing and important as our duty to conserve the significant cultural heritage of previous eras.

Figure 1e: Viking Ship Hall, Denmark.

Figure 1f-g: Moscow Shukhov Radio Tower, Russia.

LACK OF PUBLIC AWARENESS OF THE SIGNIFICANCE OF MODERN HERITAGE PLACES

All too often the heritage value of significant modern heritage sites is not understood or appreciated. However, over the last decade, this has begun to change. The World Heritage List’s inclusion of sites from the modern era has increased dramatically. This is largely due to concerted efforts by UNESCO and Non-Government Organisations such as ICOMOS (International Council on Monuments and Sites, formed in 1965 ), DOCOMOMO (Working Party for the Documentation and Conservation of buildings, sites and neighbourhoods of the Modern Movement, formed in 1988), and TICCIH (The International Committee for the Conservation of the Industrial Heritage, established in 1999).

In 2001, the UNESCO World Heritage Centre with ICOMOS and DOCOMOMO launched a joint program for the identification, documentation, and promotion of modern heritage by organizing six regional meetings to identify global issues and trends, which were held 2001-2006.

In 2004, the seminal analysis by ICOMOS of The World Heritage List: Filling the Gaps - an Action Plan for the Future confirmed that modern heritage was under-represented on the List, with the implication that it was probably similarly underrepresented in national and local heritage lists and protection.

During the first thirty years of the World Heritage Convention (1972-2001), only fourteen modern sites were listed but during the next fifteen years (to 2017) more than forty modern heritage sites were listed and many World Heritage tentative lists show other nominations that are in preparation by national parties. Recognition and awareness is growing.

Figure 2a: Abraj Al Kuwait, Kuwait.

Figure 2b: Robie House, USA.

Figure 2d: Paimio Sanatorium, Finland.

Figure 2c: Robben Island, South Africa.

These world heritage listings include cities such as Brasilia the new capital of Brazil, Le Havre in France, Asmara in Eretria, as well as parts of Rabat in Morocco. Also included are large housing complexes such as the Berlin housing estates and individual buildings and structures from a radio station in Sweden, to a hospital in Finland, and an Opera House in Australia. Mexican universities and a range of modern houses and churches across the globe, even water supply towers in Kuwait have been added to tentative lists or nominated to the World Heritage List in recent years.

Serial nominations of works by prominent modern era architects- Antonio Gaudi, Walter Gropius, and Le Corbusier have now been listed with many more proposed on tentative World Heritage nomination lists such as a selection of buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright.5 And of course, similar modern heritage listings are (perhaps more slowly) coming forward at national and local levels for management and protection. More visibly there has been a rise in local community advocacy and international social media campaigns to save and conserve modern heritage sites.

In 2005 ICOMOS initiated the formation of an international scientific committee, the ISC20C, which is focussed on advocacy and the development of guidance documents for the whole spectrum of twentieth century heritage sites. The ISC20C quickly grew to be one of the biggest ICOMOS committees, very active in advocacy work. The committee focused not on architectural styles or periods but on identifying and conserving the heritage of an entire century. It was a bold initiative, drawing on interdisciplinary expertise and experience which has produced advice, analysis, and practical

Figure 2e: Pampulha Modern Ensemble, Brazil.

guidance to support a broader exploration of heritage values.

The International Union of Architects (UIA) has initiated an international Twentieth Century Buildings Register. National DOCOMOMO working parties were developing lists of important buildings, structures, and landscapes. TICCIH has researched thematic studies of important industrial typologies (bridges, collieries, canals, railways, etc.)—all actions that were instrumental in changing public awareness over time.

However, identifying and listing the heritage significance of modern sites is only part of the battle. Managing each site’s practical conservation can also be challenging.

The ISC20C has prepared two seminal documents to provide guidance both about identifying significant modern heritage places. In pre-publication is The Twentieth-Century Historic Thematic Framework. 6 Guidance about how to manage sites is in Approaches to the Conservation of TwentiethCentury Cultural Heritage: The Madrid New Delhi Document.7

Figure 2f: Brasilia, Brazil.

APPROACHES APPROACHES APPROACHES APPROACHES TO TOTO TO THE THE THE THE CONSERVATION CONSERVATION OF OFOF

TWENTIETH TWENTIETH--CENTURY CENTURY CULTURAL CULTURAL HERITAGE HERITAGE

ICOMOS INTERNATIONAL COMMITTEE ON TWENTIETH CENTURY HERITAGE

Figure 3: The cover of the MND document, 2017.

LACK OF UNDERSTANDING OF METHODS TO CONSERVE AND MANAGE MODERN HERITAGE PLACES

A major source of pressure opposing conservation is a lack of understanding of how to look after modern heritage places. The use of contemporary materials and construction methods (often experimental), lack of maintenance, repair challenges, changes, or loss of use, and new user needs (security, upgraded servicing, AC, etc.) are often cited as insurmountable problems for conserving modern heritage places. Climate change is quickly exacerbating issues for heritage sites as well. Slowly, there has been increasing access to practical guiding documents and technical advice for managing and conserving modern heritage materials and sites. These have been developed in diverse cultures internationally and are all available for use and adaptation.

From the late nineteenth-century writers like William Morris, John Ruskin,8 and Cesar Brandi9 began to explore the theory and reasons for conservation. Debates evolved into charters such as the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings Manifesto (1877) and much later the 1964 Venice Charter which stimulated a new generation of debate and adaptation of theory to local circumstances. From the 1970s, the increased international sharing and debate about conservation planning methodologies, prompting regionally specific developments such as the Australia ICOMOS Burra Charter of 1979, JS Kerr’s The Conservation Plan 1982, and then by Bernard M. Feilden and Jukka Jokilehto’s World Heritage Site Management Guidelines (ICCROM 1998). Throughout the 1980s international professional organizations like ICOMOS, TICCIH, and DOCOMOMO began to focus particularly on the

issues of identifying and listing significant modern heritage places and national groups such as the Twentieth Century Society in the UK were at the forefront of such advocacy.

4SPECIFIC APPROACHES FOR THE CONSERVATION OF TWENTIETH CENTURY CULTURAL HERITAGE

There has been much discussion as to whether specific guidelines for conserving places of the modern era were separately needed. Many professionals argued that existing conservation approaches could be readily applied to heritage places of the twentieth-century.

In 2010 the members of the ICOMOS International Scientific Committee on Twentieth-Century Heritage (ISC20C) began to draft a reference text for an international charter where they set out the approach and the principles that should be applied to managing and interpreting twentieth century sites. The ambitious objective was to provide an international benchmark document.

Lively debates ensued amongst members, drawing on their pragmatic experience from all regions of the world. Conferences, meetings, and broad consultations were undertaken internationally. The resulting final text Approaches for the Conservation of Twentieth-Century Cultural Heritage, colloquially called The Madrid New Delhi Document, was developed and revised from 2011-2017 and is now translated into seventeen languages10, an indication of the need for such an international guidance document and benchmark standard. It has proved adaptable for conserving and managing heritage

places of various typologies and scales—from mass public housing schemes, to infrastructure systems, skyscrapers, sports stadia, urban parks, and cultural landscapes.

This short document provides eleven basic articles and thirty-two more detailed principles follow. It is short, concise, and a great reference resource in practice. The basic articles are:

Article 1: Identify and assess cultural significance.

Article 2: Apply appropriate conservation planning and management methodology.

Article 3: Research the technical and planning aspects of twentieth-century cultural heritage.

Article 4: Develop policies to conserve significance.

Article 5: Acknowledge and manage pressures for change, which are constant.

Article 6: Manage change sensitively.

Article 7: Ensure a respectful approach to additions and interventions.

Article 8: Recognise when the use contributes to the significance and manage accordingly.

Article 9: Respect the authenticity and integrity of the site

Article 10: Consider environmental sustainability.

Article 11: Promote and celebrate twentieth century architectural heritage with the wider community.

I commend it to you as the single most useful guidance document available today for modern heritage conservation.

5CONSERVATION MANAGEMENT PLANS IN PRACTICE

It is within this international framework that one of the most practical and useful methodologies available to support the survival and adaptation of modern heritage places has been establishedConservation Management Plans, (CMPs) which are the primary tool explored through this publication— and what is happening here at Sidi Harazem as a result of the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern grant process.

My professional practice in Sydney is based on supporting owners and agencies to recognize and cherish the values of modern heritage places and manage them well for sustainable futures.

I work on modern heritage places all over the world, from Tokyo to Kuwait, Sydney to Los Angeles, from stadiums, to private houses, water towers, opera houses, and telescopes. Each of them has challenges, different management requirements, and a specific cultural context—yet they have all successfully adapted the CMP process to meet their resources and challenges.

After over thirty-five years of practice, teaching, and applying the CMP approach, I can reflect and say that in each case the key to successfully developing any type of plan to sustain a heritage site is an excellent understanding of why the place is significant.

This is a very different starting point to the usual analysis of condition and repair schedules that characterize historic structure reports, or detailed histories of building fabric. The CMP methodology requires a deeper understanding of why the place is significant. This knowledge – summarised in a

Figure 4: The KIM CMP flowchart.

short (100 word) statement of significance becomes the foundation for all that follows.

The second key to success is collaborating well with your stakeholders. They will have the long-term role and responsibility towards the site, and an understanding of operational realities. Stakeholders include people who work in government agencies, community groups, construction supervisors, project managers, school groups, property owners, professors, architects, politicians, tourism authorities, and others with vested community interest in the successful conservation of these sites. Close and frequent collaboration with all stakeholders is important as the CMP is developed.

Understanding the significance of the site is key before engaging effectively with stakeholders—as it will lead to direct actions and policies. This is the basis of the Getty’s Keeping It Modern program which has now completed fifty-four projects in all corners of the world. These project reports are being loaded into the Getty Foundation online library. In all of these conservation projects a standard five-

step process has been used and adapted. The same five logical steps of the conservation process are reflected in a Conservation Management Plan (or its international equivalent). A CMP, or conservation plan (these terms are often used interchangeably) can best be explained by a quote from Dr. James Semple Kerr:

At its simplest, a conservation plan is a document that sets out what is significant in a place and consequently, what policies are appropriate to enable that significance to be retained in its future use and development. For most places, it deals with the management of change.

James Semple Kerr, 201311

A good CMP is:

• Interdisciplinary: Developed with historians, architects, planners, landscape specialists, sometimes archaeologists and collections managers

• Collaborative: Prepared with stakeholders, not

Figure 5a: The Kosovo National Library, Kosovo.

delivered to them

• Succinct: The shorter and more visual the betterComprehensive: Based on all heritage values, not only on architecture

• Evolutionary: An iterative process which evolves as knowledge grows

• Engaging: Based on policies agreed upon with stakeholders, not imposed upon them

CMPs are based on well-established international conservation practices that are now formalized in national charters and legislation in many parts of the world. CMPs are mandatory requirements for all places on the World Heritage List. They embrace the values-based approach to conservation that is practiced and promoted by most international conservation institutions today. Values-based conservation requires comprehensively looking at all the reasons a place is significant, and avoids relying solely on the architecture or building fabric of a place.

One of the real benefits of a CMP is that it moves conservation from being a reactive process—"what repair do I need to do next?"—to a more proactive approach. A proactive approach asks—"what are the policies that need to be put in place for upcoming or future conservation work?" CMPs are a powerful tool to help determine funding needs in the short, medium, and long term. They establish a framework for decision-making and help to prioritize investment by owners.

It’s not just the content that makes a CMP different from a property management plan or an historic structure plan. It is the process, a simple logical development that progresses through understanding the site well (including its history and physical elements) into an explicit assessment of significance. This is then used to directly formulate policies designed to protect that significance in the long term.

Figure 5b: The METU Faculty Building, Turkey.

One of the real benefits of a CMP is that it moves conservation from being a reactive process -what repair do I need to do next?; to a more proactive approach.A proactive approach askswhat are the policies that need to be put in place for upcoming or future conservation work?

Figure 5c: Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station, Morocco.

Figure 5d: The Gandhi Bhawan, India.

Figure 5e: The Atlantida Church, Uruguay.

Figure 5f: Tripoli Fairground, Lebanon.

6CONSERVATION PLANS IN THE GLOBAL SOUTH

Like heritage sites, every CMP is unique. However, they all share the following five-step process.

The Sidi Harazem Keeping It Modern workshop that took place in February 2019 and gave rise to this publication shared the CMPs processes from seven Getty Keeping It Modern grant recipients. Maya Hmeidan presented the start of her CMP of Niemeyer’s Tripoli Fair, Aziza Chaouni discussed the ongoing CMP of Zevaco’s Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex, Shika Jain detailed the work on the Gandhi Bhawan in Chandigarh, and Ciro Carabello presented on his work on the brick buildings of Dieste in Uruguay with a focus on how community members (especially children) are engaging with the CMP.

The CMP process, as explained in figure 4, is a formal framework to explain the thinking process and approach for conservation. CMPs are a tried and tested methodology that provides a framework for organizing all of the information needed to make appropriate and consistent decisions about the conservation of a place based on the internationally recognized processes for conserving heritage. I’ll briefly introduce the five-steps to you, using as examples two CMPs I’ve recently been involved with The Eames House in California and the Sydney Opera House (SOH) to illustrate how they apply in practical terms.

"At its simplest, a conservation plan is a document that sets out what is significant in a place and, consequently, what policies are appropriate to enable that significance to be retained in its future use and development. For most places it deals with the management of change."

JAMES SEMPLE KERR, 2013

Figure 6: Sydney Opera House, Australia.

6.1 UNDERSTAND THE PLACE

Identifying the heritage values of a place and developing a deep understanding of these values as the basis for conservation decisions, has been the basis of conservation practice for a long time. Understanding significance means historical research and analysis, documentation, possibly documenting oral histories, and always stakeholder consultation.

It’s not just about the architecture. Step one requires investigating the setting, the contents, the collections, the landscape, and archives that all contribute to its significance.

6.2 ASSESS ITS SIGNIFICANCE: WHY? TO WHOM?

The significance of a place is of course often most evident in the building’s physical fabric but not exclusively, it can also be significant for its form, function (or use), location, and intangible values.

I’ve been a member of the Sydney Opera House Conservation Council for a decade, and we use the assessment of significance in our CMP as an essential tool to guide decisions about change daily. Issues such as use, spatial qualities, spatial sequences, connections with certain communities, setting, cultural practices, and so on are all attributes of the SOH that contribute to its significance.

For example, the Sydney Opera House is located on a site called Tubowgule- “where the knowledge waters meet,” a place of gathering and feasting for Indigenous Australians. These indigenous values of the place precede the modern era creation of the

Sydney Opera House by tens of thousands of years. Yet, for many, it’s the architectural masterpiece itself that is thought to be of significance.

At the Eames House, in Los Angeles, several intangible values contribute to its significance. It is Ray and Charles Eames’ way of living in the meadow landscape that reflects their unique design approach. As well, the collection of objects inside the house is a critical element of its significance, not just the iconic building.

This very personal connection between place, practice, and the working life of the Eames’ was captured and turned into policies and conservation actions.

The way the Eames situated the house in its landscape setting—close to an existing row of eucalyptus trees also contributed to the house’s overall significance.

Stepping through the five stages of the CMP process ensures that these values are captured—beyond the usual building fabric-centred approach.

6.3 GATHER INFORMATION TO INFORM POLICIES.

WHAT? WHO? WHY?

What are the elements of the site that are significant? It’s setting? Its archives or collections? Who are the stakeholders interested in its future?

Which oral histories might be accessible? What external factors are influencing the place? Building codes? Development pressures? Repair and condition concerns? These are some of the many questions that arose during Step 3 research and consultations.

In 2002 we had the great privilege of engaging with Jan Utzon and his son to develop the Utzon Design Principles for the Sydney Opera House. These principles describe how the original architect saw opportunities to manage change at the site. At the Eames House, oral history interviews with the Eames family members provided similar valuable insights.

6.4 DEVELOP CONSERVATION POLICIES TO SUSTAIN SIGNIFICANCE SETTING, CONTENTS, BUILDINGS, ARCHIVES. HOW? WHO? WHAT?

Methods used to conserve the site can only be determined by understanding its significance and writing policies and actions that will help sustain those values. An expert assessment needs to be

made as to how much change can the site elements will tolerate before their significance is lost.

Within the CMP for the Sydney Opera House a tool called 'Tolerance for Change' is used, enabling staff to quickly assess the impacts of actions needed to operate this busy living heritage site on a practical day-to-day basis (section 4.4.12) Respecting the Vision: the Sydney Opera House CMP (2017).

6.5 IMPLEMENT AND MONITOR THE CMPTHROUGH WORKING WITH STAKEHOLDERS

In every CMP there are usually recommendations for detailed research. At the Eames House, one of their iconic furniture designs the 'hang it all' has been used to show the central nature of the CMP and the range of associated research and documentation (fig. 8).

Figure 7: Eames House, USA.

Figure 8: Eames CMP Hang it All.

Figure 9: TWA terminal, USA.

A CMP is usually prepared by a professional conservation practitioner who is working closely with the building owner or manager and in consultation with site’s stakeholders. It is always an iterative process. To be successful, a CMP needs buy-in by the owner and the person responsible for the ongoing care and conservation of the place. Ensuring their involvement throughout the process is vital. At the Sydney Opera House, a detailed induction process occurs for every new staff member or contactor on-site, so that everyone is aware of its heritage significance and the need to care for it accordingly.

7IN CONCLUSION

To conclude on a positive note, the TWA terminal at JFK airport New York, completed by Eero Saarinen in 1962 for Trans World Airlines, is an iconic modern building no one thought could be saved. The building was closed in 2001, and left vacant since it was unable to support servicing the size of modern aircraft. Re-opened in 2019 after a major rehabilitation, it has become one of the most popular hotels at JFK airport, demonstrating that even such a highly specific function and location can be adapted and celebrated for modern use. This is a great example demonstrating future potential for modern heritage sites under pressure.

ENDNOTES

1. Sheridan, Burke. "Approaches to the Conservation of Modern Cultural Heritage (The Madrid New Delhi Document)" ICOMOS ISC20C, (2017).

2. Demolished 2019.

3. Demolished 2019.

4. Undergoing conversion for hotel, 2019.

5. A selection of 8 Frank Lloyd wright buildings were listed in 2019.

6. Susan Marsden & Peter Spearritt, "The Twentieth-Century Historic Thematic Framework: A Tool for Assessing Heritage Places," GCI. (2020).

7. "Approaches for the Conservation of Twentieth-Century Cultural Heritage (The Madrid New Delhi Document)" ICOMOS ISC20C, (2017)

8. John, Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture (Boston: Dana Estes & Company, 1849).

9. Cesare, Brandi, Theory of Restoration, ed. Guiseppe Basile, trans. Cynthia Rockwell (Firenze, Istituto Centrale per il Restauro and Nardini Editore, 2005).

10. Translations available on the ISC20C website.

11. James S., Kerr, The Conservation Plan (Australia ICOMOS, 2013).

NIEMEYER’S INTERNATIONAL AND PERMANENT FAIRGROUND OF LEBANON

THE CHALLENGES OF CONSERVING A UTOPIAN VISION

MAYA HMEIDAN, LEBANON

OSCAR NIEMEYER’S INTERNATIONAL AND PERMANENT FAIRGROUND OF LEBANON

The Challenges of Conserving a Utopian Vision

1INTRODUCTION

In the early 1960s, the infamous Brazilian modern architect Oscar Niemeyer designed The International and Permanent Fairground of Lebanon [later renamed Rachid Karami International Fair (RKIF)] to accommodate a state-of-the-art international and permanent exhibition that could host cultural events. These ambitions were shortlived. The modernist complex of exhibition pavilions, theatres, museums, and residences never achieved its intended function. Instead, it became a site that has faced repeated misfortune.

Construction of the Fairground began in 1964. Upon its completion, the Lebanese Civil War erupted in 1975. In the early 1990s—over fifteen years following the end of the conflict—the complex was still in a state of ‘absent presence’ (fig. 1). Fortunately, largescale development proposals which would have deformed the building’s concept (as envisioned by Niemeyer and the Lebanese State) were halted. Following these events, efforts to regenerate the complex, (even to accommodate less ambitious functions) were in vain. Niemeyer’s architectural masterpiece has been threatened by an absence of care, expertise, and most importantly—a sound vision for its protection and development.

Recently, an awareness of the inherent architectural and design values of Niemeyer’s complex has been rising among the general public. This is largely due to the efforts of interest groups, NGOs, and concerned individuals. In 2018 the complex was added to UNESCO’s World Heritage Tentative List. The listing describes Niemeyer’s complex as one of the major representative works of twentieth century modern architecture in the Middle East, due to “its scale and the richness of its formal expressions.”1

In the same year, UNESCO’s Beirut Office was awarded the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern grant to develop a conservation management plan (CMP) for the International Fairgrounds at Tripoli.2

UNESCO began the data collection phase for the Fairground in February 2019. This included archival research to develop an understanding of the context and its significance. The initial research phase led to a determination of the site’s significance through various lenses, taking into account the needs of a variety of interest groups.

Figure 1: General view of Rachid Karami International Fair in Tripoli, c. 2003.

Since 2019, UNESCO has been collaborating with a team of national and international experts in the fields of architectural research and conservation to develop the best conservation approach for Oscar Niemeyer’s International Fairgrounds in Tripoli. The approach prioritizes conservation strategies that are compatible with the architectural, aesthetic, and design values of the place in addition to the socio-economic needs of the city and its people.

This paper will highlight the various challenges encountered during the initial phase of data collection and analysis, including the challenges resulting from the current socio-political and cultural contexts at play in Lebanon, and Tripoli more specifically. For instance, one of the major challenges faced by this project is related to the gathering of the unwritten or undocumented histories, in addition to the diverging views and perceptions of Lebanese and Tripolitan people towards the Fair project. Before delving into these challenges, the first section of this paper exposes the changing nature of the valuation and appropriation processes at work on the Fair’s site through a diachronic approach. It is followed by a brief presentation of the different components of the conservation management plan being developed by UNESCO Beirut Office.

2CONTEXT

Following his election as the president of the Lebanese Republic in October 1958, General Fouad Chehab (1958-1964) embarked upon a program of administrative, social, and economic reform intended to strengthen and modernize the Lebanese state. To achieve his general policy of geographically-distributed social development across Lebanon, Chehab called upon the IRFED (International Institute for Research and Training, Education and Development) mission (1959-1964)3 headed by Father Lebret, a French-Dominican priest, social scientist, and philosopher. President Chehab decided to accelerate the implementation of reforms and socio-economic projects which resulted from studies conducted by the IRFED delegation and other experts. As a result, largescale projects — some of which addressed regional interests—were launched across the country.4 The Conseil Exécutif des Grands Projets (CEGP) was then established to implement major government infrastructure and development projects—one of which was a Fair in Tripoli. Thus, the early 1960s was a transformative period in Lebanon, witnessing the birth of new projects, regulations, and institutions that Lebanon had never seen before. This period is considered the golden age of the country by the Lebanese majority.

It is worth noting that the idea of establishing an international fair in Lebanon was born in 1958 before Chehab’s election as president. At the time, the Exhibition Committee’s recommendation to the Ministry of Planning was to hold an annual international fair in the capital, Beirut. After President Chehab’s election in 1958, a policy which prioritized political decentralization was adopted,

focusing on regional and peripheral socio-economic development. As a result, Lebanon’s second-largest city, Tripoli, was selected to house the fairground in November 1959.5 This decision, which became effective on the 7th of May 1960,6 was facilitated by pressure from Tripolitan politicians, trade circles, and civil society. Tripoli also held an advantage due to the availability of unbuilt agricultural lands which could be expropriated at relatively low prices.

Amado Chalhoub, a friend of Tripolitan Prime Minister Rachid Karami, was appointed the first Fair Director on January 4th 1962. As a member of the Lebanese diaspora in Brazil, Chalhoub was

Figure 2: Ferdinand Dagher (1st left) and other members of the CEGP welcoming Oscar Niemeyer (2nd left) at the Beirut Port in July 1962.

Figure 3: Niemeyer’s proposed urban plan for a third urban core based around the fair (in black) in addition to the old city of Tripoli and Al Mina (hatched).

Figure 4: General plan of the Permanent and International Fair of Lebanon in Tripoli as proposed by Niemeyer, 1963.

familiar with Oscar Niemeyer’s reputation7 after the completion of Brasilia and recommended that he leads the design of the fair. Shortly thereafter Niemeyer was commissioned by the Lebanese government to design Tripoli’s International and Permanent Fairgrounds.8 Niemeyer seemed an appropriate choice for a young postcolonial nation looking to secure its reputation regionally and to compete in global trade and tourism markets.

Following his visit to the city of Tripoli in July 1962, Niemeyer proposed an entire city quarter along the coast with the fairground as its focal point (figs. 2, 3). The press described Niemeyer’s design and concept for a permanent exhibition and cultural complex as a “revolutionary” avant-garde concept, and as an example for future international fairs.9

In Niemeyer’s own words, it was the “first to be based on a criterion of unity and plastic equilibrium” (fig. 4).10 Instead of following the common trend of designing freestanding exhibition pavilions to represent different countries, Niemeyer unified all of the pavilions beneath a large canopy formed by a simple reinforced concrete structure. The 'Grande Couverture' is an astounding 750 m in length and 50 m in width. This boomerang-shaped hall is the Fair’s main building (figs. 5, 6).

At the Fairground, Niemeyer scattered meticulously designed modern concrete pavilions throughout the site, all facing the concave side of the Grand Cover, and connected through a series of green landscapes and reflecting pools. The small structures dispersed throughout the site reference characteristic curves

Figure 5: Niemeyer’s drawing of the Main Exhibition Pavilion or the “Grande Couverture.”

Figure 6: The Main Exhibition Pavilion or the “Grande Couverture”, 2019.

Figure 7: The Lebanon Pavilion, 2019 .

Figure 8: Niemeyer’s drawing of the Lebanon Pavilion.

and geometric forms employed in other Niemeyer works; namely Ibirapuera Park and Brasilia. These structures include the 'Lebanon Pavilion'—a square structure surrounded by pointed arcades (figs. 7, 8), the dome-shaped Experimental Theatre, the “Space Museum” with its heliport, an OpenAir Theatre accessed through a ceremonial ramp under a monumental concrete arch, a daycare with a conical form, and many others (figs. 9, 10).

The ideals embodied in Niemeyer’s designs were fully embraced and high hopes were placed on the project.11 Shortly after laying the foundation stone on October 1st 1963 (fig. 11), the United Kingdom and Australia announced their plans to each

reserve 18,000 m2 of the Fairground to house their pavilions.12

The construction of Tripoli’s International Fair started in early 1964. By 1965 various access roads to the site were enlarged, and the government allocated a budget for the construction of a coastal highway connecting Tripoli in the north to Saida in the south, passing through Beirut. Unfortunately, budget deficits and a lack of state funding delayed the implementation of major infrastructure projects including the coastal highway and Tripoli’s International Fair. The inauguration date for the Fairground was consecutively deferred until 1976.13 The project’s slow execution fueled criticism

Figure 9: : The Day Care (1st left), Experimental Threatre (Dome), Lebanon Pavilion, Helipad and the Ramp and Monumental Arch leading into the Open Air Theatre, 2019 .

The project was nearing completion when it was seized by the Syrian Army in 1976. Using the site as a military base and detention center brought the modern project to a complete halt, killing both the great dream for a modern developed nation and Niemeyer's utopian socialist vision for Lebanon.

Figure 10: Open Air Theatre (center) with the Grand Cover (left) and the Water Tower (right). Notice the Quality Inn hotel in the background- previously the Collective Housing (see figure 16).

Figures 11a, 11b, 11c: Articles from 1962-63 reporting the launch of the fair; Excerpt from Le Commerce du Levant; an excerpt from the Arabic newspaper Al Inchaa; Grand Projects Executive Council document from CEGP booklet (top to bottom).

Figure 12: The state of deterioration and neglect for some buildings at the RKIF, such as the Administration building, 2019.

Figure 13: Graffiti at Niemeyer’s Guest House, reminiscent of the site occupation period, 2019.

Legend

A Ground Floor

1 garden

2 rooms

3 services, kitchen, offices

B First Floor

1 void

2 bedrooms

3 bathrooms

C Cross Section

D Perspective

Figure 14: Niemeyer’s design of the Collective Housing (compare with figure 10).

against political leaders in successive governments. Widespread disappointment was shared by the general public and project stakeholders—in particular economic organizations, local investors, and ex-land owners—whose hopes for an equitable future for Tripoli were further dashed by the outbreak of the Lebanese Civil War in 1975.

Niemeyer’s Fairground was nearing completion when it was seized by the Syrian Army in 1976. Using the site as a military base and detention center brought the modern project to a complete halt—killing postcolonial ambitions for a developed nation and Niemeyer’s utopian socialist vision for Lebanon. Above all, Tripolitans came to associate the Fairground with negative memories of the war until the site was completely evacuated in 1998 (figs. 12, 13).

Despite the long years of war, misuse, theft, and neglect, the Fairground’s structures remained in fairly good shape. The general composition of the Fair is intact and the forms of the buildings still appear in all their plasticity. Nevertheless, the Fair has been in a state of gradual degradation due to the lack of post-war public spending, use, and vision.

The partial rehabilitation that was introduced to selected structures in 1994 (such as the Open Air Theatre, part of the Grand Cover, Collective Housing, the Lebanon Pavilion, and the Portico) allowed for the occasional use of the Fairgrounds by local commercial entities as well as arts programming from 1995 onwards.14 In 2000, one of the most dramatic transformations was inflicted on the residential slab building known as 'Collective Housing' when it became 'the Quality Inn'—a three-star hotel leased to a third party

under a Build-Operate-Transfer (BOT) agreement (fig. 14). Niemeyer’s remaining futuristic phantom sculptures became the silent witnesses to the erosion of the postcolonial modern condition which brought them into existence (figs. 15, 16).

Consecutive government strategies failed to reinstate the Fairgrounds’ original function as “the only international and permanent exhibition in Lebanon.”15 Several large-scale development proposals that aimed to reuse and revive the complex were halted due to the political instability in the region, or through public campaigns16 opposed to unsympathetic designs and additions to the original complex which would have dramatically impacted the site. For instance, in 2004 a project known as Cedar Land proposed to transform the Permanent International Fair into a tourist village which would accommodate millions of visitors a year based on the Disneyland model.17 Another project known as China Max proposed a permanent exhibition for Chinese products and a tax-free exhibition area for Chinese goods.18

In the past few years, the Rachid Karami International Fair (RKIF) Administration Board has changed its attitude towards the Fairground. Given the delicate condition of the exposed concrete and the partial collapse of some concrete roofs, the RKIF Administration Board opted to accept project proposals that included the rehabilitation and adaptive reuse of one or many of the onsite structures. Unfortunately, some of these proposals, such as the Knowledge and Innovation Centre (KIC project) were put in place, in the absence of aa master plan or a clear vision.19 This patchwork approach to protecting the site threatens the integrity and authenticity of the complex, as well

Figure 15: Aerial view of RKIF in 1974 prior to the outbreak of the civil war.

Figure 16: Aerial view of RKIF in 1999 after the end of the civil war and the partial rehabilitation of the site. Notice the major change in the walkways, the additional parking and the changes in the area of the collective housing. Also the urban expansion of the city around the RKIF.

as Niemeyer’s concepts of unity and harmony of the site. Reactive decision-making will not only lead to the fragmentation of the complex between different users, but may also ruin the important attributes embodied in the design of the complex. Unfortunately, while the idea of introducing additional structures to the Fairground has been widely accepted, a comprehensive masterplan for the modern complex remains absent.

As an outstanding manifestation of modernity and modernism in Lebanon and the Middle East, Tripoli’s Fairground has made its way onto the UNESCO’s World Heritage List in Danger in January 2023 due the deteriorated state of its conservation. Today, efforts should concentrate on addressing the most urgent conservation issues and challenges. The site merits special attention and care when considering potential development options. For this reason, the development of a Conservation Management Plan (CMP) for Tripoli’s International Fairground is a critical tool that can guide decision-making

processes which promote the conscious restoration and reuse of this outstanding modern complex.

3THE CONSERVATION MANAGEMENT PLAN FOR TRIPOLI’S FAIRGROUND

The Niemeyer-designed Tripoli buildings have experienced deterioration due to weathering over the last fifty years (fig. 17). Therefore, the preparation of a CMP is an important step to ensure that both repairs and future development are carried out within the framework of considered conservation policies. Such policies would guarantee compatibility with Niemeyer’s architectural expression along with the existing landscape of the Fair.

Figure 17: The status of the ceiling of the first basement at the Open Air Theatre, June 2019.

Figure 18: Cover page of Niemeyer’s article on the Tripoli Fair in Módulo, Oct.1962.

3.1 APPROACH TO IMPLEMENTING THE SCOPE OF WORK

The Fair’s CMP concept was developed based on a belief that a thorough understanding of 'Place' is essential to determining both the cultural significance and a Statement of Significance agreed upon by all stakeholders. In addition to capturing the essence of the 'Place,' the CMP identifies vulnerabilities that can potentially impact the site’s heritage value, while outlining policies to protect the site’s significant features from those vulnerabilities.

The first step in the process of developing the CMP would be to gather information by studying the buildings onsite and consulting archival material. Then, the project team develops an analysis of the architectural fabric of the Fair, establishing an inventory of components for each building and noting their changes over time. The CMP shall then provide a structure for considering future proposals for repair and development and for formulating mitigation strategies as needed.

The understanding of 'Place' shall cover the historical development of the International Fairgrounds for Tripoli from the inception of the idea by Oscar Niemeyer and the City of Tripoli, through to its construction and its condition during and throughout the war. This assessment places the Fairgrounds within the context of its original purpose and its importance within Niemeyer’s overall body of work.

The Fairground complex is a large site composed of more than twenty buildings. Therefore, a general structural assessment which identifies the physical

conditions of the buildings will be undertaken to determine their significance and identify general vulnerabilities or threats. At the same time, a detailed structural assessment and material analysis for one particular structure (chosen in consultation with the RKIF Administration Board members and the UNESCO team members) will be completed.

With the absence of local conservation guidelines for modern heritage buildings in Lebanon, the Conservation Management Plan will be prepared following the ICOMOS international guidelines20 while also considering the specificity of the local context.

Given the unique importance of the International Fair at Tripoli and its prominent sense of place, the project team will simultaneously address the issues of buildings and site to ensure that all characterdefining features and qualities of the property are protected, and their integrity is maintained. The complex represents a cultural landscape that will be considered holistically by the CMP.

Figure 19: Excerpt from the Arabic newspaper Al Hadara (31 December 1966).

Figure 20: The Grand Cover during construction, 9th of July 1965.

3.2 WORK PLAN

The steps for accomplishing the tasks necessary to prepare the CMP include the following:

• Data Collection: Preliminary review of documentation, in-depth archival research, onsite visits, visual observations and discussions, laboratory testing, and community surveys.

• Analysis of Data: Identifying significance and assessing threats and vulnerabilities.

• Developing conservation policies and specific guidelines for future use and development.

Figures 21a, 21b: The site during construction circa 1966-1967.

It is important to note that, this paper will focus on the methodologies applied for the first phase of the work plan–the data collection phase–including the primary analysis of data to understand the context and the associated challenges.

3.3 CHALLENGES FACING THE PROJECT IMPLEMENTATION

Since the inception of the CMP process in 2019, several external impediments were encountered, which added to the usual challenges of implementing a CMP in a Global South context:

3.3.1 Short-sighted vision and absence of strategic planning:

The RKIF is owned by the State and it falls under the authority of the Ministry of Economics and Trade. However, its daily operation and administration have been entrusted to a Director General and a small team (made of around eighteen employees, twelve of whom are security guards). An administrative board comprised of a president and six members (elected every three years) is responsible for putting forward the overall policies for the operation of the Fair in coordination with the Minister of Economics. Over the years, the Fair suffered from weak governance, especially that the board positions were intermittent and not remunerated (unlike the Director’s position which is for life) and the Ministry in charge always had other priorities to tend to.

As such, the future of the Fair has been uncertain as it lies in the hands of decision makers with diverging views and short-sighted visions and policies. This precarious situation is exacerbated by the absence of any long-term holistic planning that may preserve the integrity and authenticity of the site.

The Fair’s dilettante governance was certainly a factor which delayed the development of the site, but it also worked to protect the Fairground from total obliteration. Nevertheless, the recent State interest (after the site's inscription on the World Heritage List) in preserving Niemeyer’s work can be seen as a major opportunity to the CMP development process and the implementation of its guidelines.

3.3.2 Urban/building regulatory tools within the surroundings of the complex:

In Lebanon, modern architectural heritage is still generally undervalued compared to the cultural heritage of earlier periods. This is quite evident in the absence of modern heritage protection from the current urban planning regulations and the weak enforcement of the current Law on Antiquities concerning twentieth-century heritage.21 This explains the absence of any modern heritage building from the national heritage inventory list— including the Fair. Until recently (2022), the absence of legal protection was a major obstacle for the CMP. Current urban policies which encourage piecemeal development are proceeding faster than the CMP, jeopardizing the team’s work and posing a major challenge to the CMP’s future implementation.

No urban planning or building codes exist to regulate the empty parcels surrounding the Fair which have been expropriated by the government for future extensions. The lack of knowledge and awareness of the damaging impact insensitive development will have on the Fairground heightens the risk of poorly conceived interventions on surrounding land parcels.

Given the complexity of the situation, UNESCO advocated for early consultation with its CMP team prior to any major decision or on site intervention. The terms of the agreement were that no interventions would happen onsite without consulting the working group. Simultaneous negotiations took place with the Ministry of Culture to facilitate and expedite the listing of the Fairground on the national heritage register.

3.3.3 Local technical expertise in modern conservation:

One of the major criteria for the selection of the working members was to ensure a multidisciplinary team. However, the lack of local technical expertise in modern concrete conservation and the preparation of CMPs necessitated that the positions of the conservation engineer, the conservation architect, and the cultural heritage specialist were assigned to international practitioners who were already involved in similar projects.22

On the other hand, the tasks related to data collection, archival research, and understanding the context were allocated to local practitioners. Team members were carefully selected based on their previous professional experience and research interests in both modern architecture and the history of the Fairground.

Figure 22a (top): The complete set of execution drawings for the Portico as well as the other structures studied by the Associated consulting Engineers ACE

Figure 22b (right): An excerpt of the Portico’s Architectural drawing executed by ACE after Oscar Niemeyer’s plans in Oct 1964.

Figure 23: Ferdinand Dagher (1st left) and Oscar Niemeyer (7th left) on the construction site of the Tripoli Fair during his 2nd visit to Lebanon between December 1966 and Januray/February 1967.

APPROACH TO UNDERSTANDING THE CONTEXT AND THE CHALLENGES FACED

Three methods were employed to collect the relevant data for understanding the project’s context: (1) archival research, (2) fieldwork, onsite workshops, and stakeholders’ consultation meetings, and (3) community surveys.

4.1 ARCHIVAL RESEARCH

Archival research involved the review of all available documentation on the history of the RKIF in Tripoli, including its construction, subsequent alterations, and relevant information related to its current condition. In addition to Niemeyer’s sketches and the detailed construction drawing sets produced by his office, our team consulted execution drawings developed by local consultants and some as-built drawings produced by local contractors which enriched our understanding of the Fair’s buildings and landscape. Moreover, the CMP team led meetings with local architects, engineers, and other professionals, who were involved in the original design and construction phases.

Consequently, all the potential archival records available in Lebanon and Brazil were identified and the quality of their data was assessed. There were two research phases: (1) a preliminary research phase (February-June 2019), ending with an onsite working meeting which included all team members (June 2019), and (2) an in-depth research phase to fill knowledge gaps after the aforementioned onsite meeting (July-October 2019).

When the research team was convened to assess the quality of available documentation and to draft a work plan for the research, it became obvious that good quality documentation existed but was dispersed between different institutions and individuals in Lebanon and abroad. Some of these documents have been digitally archived and can be easily accessed after permissions are secured, such as through the Niemeyer Foundation in Brazil, the Arab Center for Architecture in Lebanon, and local newspapers. Other sources of information had to be collected and properly archived such as governmental archives (including the RKIF’s archives), as well as archival documents from local consultants and contractors who implemented Niemeyer’s design, and individuals who were involved in the construction of the Fair and its management over the years. For this purpose, several interviews with local consultants, contractors, and their descendants were conducted and testimonies and memories were recorded in order to develop a further understanding of the project’s context (figs. 23, 24).

Unlike Niemeyer’s other projects, his work in Lebanon is the least known. Niemeyer’s Fairground in Tripoli remains underrepresented in his own records; the Fair is briefly described in few pages of Modulo, a journal established by Niemeyer to document Brazilian architecture (fig. 18),23 with a brief mention in his autobiographical notes.

Several local newspapers documented the project, beginning with the initial invitations sent to Oscar Niemeyer, the design and implementation phases, and personal interviews with Niemeyer (fig. 19). A critical photographic record of the site during

construction is also available (fig. 20). Several articles appeared in the popular press and online after the cessation of hostilities in 1990, but these mainly pertain to a proposal that worked to transform the site into a theme park, or mentions of events taking place onsite. Partial drawings of the Fair exist in the Niemeyer’s archive, the RKIF archive, and at some local consultants’ archives (igs. 21, 22). Post-war surveys of the buildings and ground conditions and architectural plans of the rehabilitated structures were also available through the RKIF archives. However, other documentation such as engineering drawings of the site’s structure and as-built drawings have yet to be found.

Scholarly work on the Fair remains limited. A few research-based articles were published between 2012 and 2014 by Lebanese architects and urban planners.24 One Ph.D. dissertation discussing the problem of scale in architecture included a whole chapter titled Spatializing Co-Existence (around 30 pages), analyzing the Fairground.25

Based on the available budget, a strategy to selectively collect key archival documents was devised; prioritizing architectural and structural drawings, as well as old photographs. The team’s main research efforts focused on consulting the RKIF’s un-digitized archives to ensure relevant material was made accessible to all team members. A common digital repository was formed to collect digital documents, including scanned plans and drawings. These documents were made available to the entire team prior to the first onsite visit. Additional data and documents collected by the team could subsequently be added to this repository.

Figure 24: Amado Chalhoub, the Fair’s director, on site presenting a file on the project to President Charles Helou and Rachid Karami.

The most challenging aspect of data collection was the lack of security and political instability across the country since the end of 2019. The worsening socio-economic conditions experienced by most of the Lebanese population led to a civil uprising, mass protests against the ruling political class, and widespread accusations of corruption. This crisis resulted from unsound economic policies and entrenched corruption that have plagued Lebanon’s post-civil war decades.

As the team proceeded with archival research, further challenges appeared along the way. In addition to what has been previously mentioned, the team found that the unfinished state of the buildings and the absence of some important technical/execution drawings made it harder to assess the original design intentions. In addition to the fact that, some key individuals were not willing to share information about the site or their personal archives.

4.2 FIELDWORK, ONSITE WORKSHOPS, AND STAKEHOLDERS’ CONSULTATION MEETINGS

The project team conducted several site visits to the Rachid Karami International Fair in Tripoli. The initial site visit by the entire team took place during the first workshop held at the RKIF from June 1014 2019. The aim was to:

1. Allow the research team to present and share preliminary historical data they collected with the technical team.

2. Undertake a visual assessment of the Fair’s structures; including additional physical data and evidence to develop the technical team’s understanding of the site.

3. Meet the Fair’s administration and discuss the challenges of preserving and developing the Fairground complex.

4. Meet with major stakeholders with interests in the site in order to develop the team’s understanding of previous, current, and future development interests for the complex.

5. Finalize a strategy to achieve the CMP document.

For the first site visit, the following documents were made available to the team members:

• Copies of architectural, structural, and building systems drawings;

• Specifications for the original building and its systems;

• Photographs of the buildings at various dates in order to assess the extent of its deterioration;

• Information on alterations, changes, and extensions to the buildings over time; including drawings and specifications of recently refurbished structures;

• Condition reports commissioned after the original construction;

• Copies of master plans and other relevant planning documents;

• Photographs, maps, and plans of the site and its setting.

Activities during the first site visit included start-up meetings to discuss the logistics of operating on the site and procedures for conducting archival work, to review issues of concern and problems facing the structures and the site, and to consult the drawings, specifications, and other documents held at the RKIF in Tripoli. Project team members inspected the buildings and site to understand the as-built construction, alterations, present conditions, and factors which impacted deterioration. Defects and deficiencies were observed and recorded using photographs and field notes. Project team members conducted meetings during site visits with key stakeholders identified by UNESCO. In addition to the main project stakeholders (RKIF administration), the team met with additional groups such as the Directorate General of Antiquities,

the Tripoli Special Economic Zone,26 the Order of Engineers and Architects in Tripoli and Beirut, as well as potential investors27 to discuss and further understand the issues at stake.

Additional presentations and guided visits took place with special interest groups Expertise France and East Architecture who, in 2017, conducted partial rehabilitation works to transform Niemeyer’s Guest House into the Minjara Platform28 and the NGO Niemeyer’s Heritage in Tripoli which represents the interests of part of the local community. These meetings were key to building relationships with locals, and helped the team better understand their concerns and aspirations for specific site elements.

These meetings also allowed the project team to understand the challenges faced by direct stakeholders such as the RKIF administration, users, and others. Stakeholders shared their preliminary observations and concerns towards proposed developments for the site. This research and a set of general recommendations were shared through a report addressed to the RKIF administration and the ministry in charge. The significance of the Fairground was highlighted in the report, including an outline of key Niemeyer design elements that should be protected in future developments. A summary of the workshop’s main findings, preliminary observations, concerns, and a set of recommendations by the project team (following the stakeholder meetings and field assessments) were also enclosed.29

By involving the RKIF administration throughout the process, the project team developed an understanding of the legal, financial, and administrative challenges inherent to the operation

of the Fairground and the impact of these issues on future conservation and development efforts. For example, until the approval of the new law no.274/2022 for the reorganization of the RKIF, rental income from events and exhibitions at the Fairground is required by law to be sent to the national treasury. In return, the Fairground received an annual budget from the Ministry of Finance which barely covers operating costs and salaries. In order to receive additional funding for repairs and rehabilitation work, the RKIF administration required further approval from two bodies: the Ministry of Economy and Trade, and the Ministry of Finance. In turn, both ministries must gain approvals from the Council of Ministers for an extra-budgetary allocation—a complex task given the government’s long list of priorities. Consequently the administration has been incapable of undertaking simple tasks necessary to ensure the adequate maintenance of structures, let alone rehabilitating them.

In addition to legal challenges, underfunding, and staff shortages, no comprehensive future vision for the RKIF complex has been developed—leading to the absence of a master plan. The result is a fragmented approach to the conservation and development of the complex.

On the positive side, visual structural assessments and a review of the available documentation revealed that the precarious structural elements onsite are repairable. Recommendations by the project’s conservation engineer ask the RKIF administration to prioritize the implementation of safety interventions—the removal of loose and unsound concrete from all buildings, shoring structures as required, and restricting public

access to areas such as the Open Air Theatre, Grand Cover, and Space Museum. The next step, according to the project’s engineer, is to undertake detailed assessments of building conditions, and to develop appropriate repair methodologies accordingly. In parallel, a mock-up program should be considered to demonstrate methodologies for concrete repairs.

4.3 COMMUNITY SURVEYS

To guarantee a more inclusive bottom-up conservation approach, an online public survey was launched by the end of 2020.30 This survey targeted sample populations from Lebanon in general and Tripoli in particular to assess their relationships with the Fair, the site’s significance to them, and their aspirations for its future development.

While it is easy to gauge the views of institutions and NGOs, collecting this information from local inhabitants is more complex. Decisions which impact demographic representation make the data collection process challenging. For these reasons, a one-to-one survey based on a carefully selected percentage of the local community to ensure their engagement throughout the CMP process.

The data retrieved supported both the Statement of Significance and recommendations for the Fairground’s future use. The project team worked to the best of their ability to ensure that the opinions of those impacted by the site are represented in the final outcome.

In fine, data collection and archival research are a simultaneously tedious, daunting, and alluring task. If prolonged, this phase may consume the project’s remaining time and resources. While

it is certainly possible to collect data until the end of the RKIF CMP process, this cannot take precedence over other phases. Unfortunately, the data collection phase was interrupted and delayed by many external factors, one of which is related to the lack of security and political instability that prevailed in the country since October 2019. The worsening socio-economic conditions experienced by most of the Lebanese population led to a civil uprising, mass protests against the ruling political class, and widespread accusations of corruption. This crisis resulted from unsound economic policies and entrenched corruption that have plagued Lebanon’s post-civil war decades. These events, followed by the confinement measures taken to fight the COVID-19 pandemic since February 2020, have prevented the team from carrying out their tasks and have delayed the whole CMP process.31

5CONCLUSION

The Chehab regime’s ideal of an international and permanent fairground in Tripoli has seemingly evaporated from the strategic development plans of consecutive post-war governments. While Niemeyer’s modern structures remain as phantom sculptures in a largely vacant landscape, a majority of stakeholders consider the International and Permanent Fair program as obsolete given the geopolitical and socio-economic contexts of Tripoli and Lebanon. Most believe the Fairgrounds should be better integrated into Tripoli’s urban fabric, reinvigorating the site’s function for the city and its people.

Current political and financial instability in Lebanon impedes the likelihood of any project implementation, at least in the short term.

With the RKIF’s identification as a World Heritage Site, the tension between the advocates of development at any cost—supporters of megaprojects or smaller scale investments and those who request the preservation of the Fair is mounting. In this ambiguous context, the CMP has an important role to play in meditating the two visions—showcasing that a balance between development and conservation can still be achieved within the framework of international standards and regulations.

Our hope is that the RKIF’s CMP process and document contribute to informed decision-making, and future plans for the site and its context that preserve its authenticity and integrity—ensuring the successful management of the RKIF as a World Heritage Site, a crucial step towards the reactivation of the site, directing its future towards well-balanced and sustainable development priorities that place public interests and heritage conservation requirements over local politics and individual gains.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank all the project team members; Mousbah Rajab (urban planner), Fares El Dahdah (architectural historian), Mazen Haidar (conservation architect), Maroun Kassab (architect), Kyle Normadin (conservation architect), Paul Gaudette (conservation engineer), Pamela Jerome (cultural heritage consultant), Joseph Kreidi (project supervisor) and Fadia Jardak (administrative assistant), in addition to the project interns; Nadim Zaidan (graduate engineer), Rawan Deeb (graduate architect), Nai Zakharia (graduate anthropologist) and Jessica Rai (graduate architect) for their direct and indirect contribution to this paper.

ENDNOTES

1. "Tentative List," UNESCO World Heritage Centre, https:// whc.unesco.org/en/tentativelists/6357/.

2. "Keeping It Modern: Grants awarded 2018," Getty: Resources for Visual Art and Cultural Heritage, The Getty Foundation, https://www.getty.edu/ foundation/initiatives/current/keeping_it_modern/ grants_awarded_.

3. The Institut de Recherches et de Formation en vue de Développement (IRFED) is a French organization specialized in the study of social and economic conditions in underdeveloped countries, headed by Father Louis Joseph Lebret.

4. Kamnal, Salibi, "Lebanon Under Fouad Chehab 1958–1964," Middle Eastern Studies 2, 3. (1966): 211-226, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4282160.

5. Chloe, Kattar, "Chronology and Facts on the Rachid Karami International Fair," in Cycles of Collapsing Progress Exhibition Booklet (Tripoli, Lebanon: Rachis Karameh International Fair by Beirut Museum of Art and STUDIOCUR/ART, 22 September – 23 October 2018), 9.

6. Presidential decree, no. 4027, May 7, 1960.

7. In an interview with Niemeyer in Le Commerce du Levant, Saturday, 15th September 1962, Niemeyer was asked to describe how he accepted the commission for the International Fair in Tripoli. His answer was: “I received a letter from the Management of the Fair of Tripoli, asking me if I was disposed to take on the planning of this Fair.

On his side, the Brazilian Ambassador recommended that I accept this offer. I accepted with even more enthusiasm since I have many friendships within the Lebanese community in Brazil [illegible] the management of the Fair, without imposing any conditions or retributions”. Text translated from French.

8. "Oscar Niemeyer l’architecte de <<Brasilia>>, participerait il à l’établissement des plans de la Foire de Tripoli?" L'Orient, March 22, 1962, 3 ; and "Pour La Foire de Tripoli, l’architecte de Brasilia : Oscar Niemeyer," L'Orient, April 28, 1962, p. 1, L’Orient Le Jour Archives.

9. Niemeyer, O., “L’Architect Doit Toujours Rechercher une Solution Nouvelle,” L’Orient newspaper, September 16, 1962, 1. See also L’Orient (1962, September 4) and L’Orient (1966, December 24).

10. Niemeyer, O., “Feira Internacional e Permanente do Líbano em Trípoli,” Modulo 7, 30 (1962) ; and "Conseil Exécutif des Grands Projets," in Foire Internationale & Permanente du Liban à Tripoli, (booklet produced on the occasion of laying the foundation stone, October 1, 1963)

11. In the Local News Agency, 29th of November 1968, p.4, it was predicted that the Fair would attract more than 2 million yearly visitors and that annual revenues would equal 7.5 million LBP. See also Katter, C. (2018) “Niemeyer Lost in Translation”, Visitor Guide of the exhibition “Cycles of Collapsing Progress”, Beirut Museum of Art, http://www.bema.museum/Library/ Assets//Gallery/PDFs/Visitors-Guide-English.pdf

12. “Grande-Bretagne, Australie réservent 18.000 mètres carrés à la Foire Internationale de Tripoli,” L'Orient, November 8, 1963, p. 3, L’Orient Le Jour Archives.

13. The original inauguration date was set June 1966. The fair’s opening was rescheduled for 1969. In 1967, the opening was delayed two more years until 1971. See: L’Orient. (1967, August 3). Karame Annonce : La Foire de Tripoli sera achevée en 1969. L'Orient, p.6; L’Orient. (1968, June 11). La Foire Internationale de Tripoli sera inaugurée en 1971, en même temps que l’autostrade. L'Orient, p.6, L’Orient Le Jour Archives; and Katter, C. (2018) “Chronology and Facts on the Rachid Karami International Fair”, Visitor Guide of the exhibition “Cycles of Collapsing Progress”, Beirut Museum of Art, http:// www.bema.museum/Library/Assets//Gallery/PDFs/ Visitors-Guide-English.pdf

14. “Dernaika: The rehabilitation works at the International Fair in Tripoli started,” Al Rakib Newspaper, July 30, 1994, title translated from Arabic.

15. Ministerial Decision, no. 86, 1995.

16. In 2006, the World Monument Fund placed the Fair on its annual watch list of the 100 most endangered sites in

need of preservation. World Monument Fund, www.wmf. org/prject/international-fairground

17. The proposed scheme envisaged a 'program of 60,000 sq. meters of exhibition space, 200,000 sq. meters of leisure and recreation space, a 170,000 sq. meter nautical center with pools, three international hotels, a "model Lebanese village" constructed on axis with the Lebanese Pavilion of Niemeyer [with] artisan shops, additional commercial and restaurant spaces, all of which [will] be connected by a "tourist" train', in Al Tamadon Newspaper, 06 August 2004 , p.12.

18. In Al Tamadon Newspaper (19, June 206), the project was described as being based on four points: (1) A taxfree zone for imported Chinese goods; (2) a permanent exhibition for advanced technical and electronic inventions; (3) the rehabilitation of existing structures for local craft exhibitions, building an amusement park, equipment of dancing fountains, planting the public gardens; and (4) a community for festivals and tourism. See also Al Tamadon Newspaper, 06 May 2006, p.1,3,4.

19. The Knowledge and Innovation Center - KIC project - aims to develop a technology hub on a parcel of the Rachid Karami Fairground in Tripoli in order to contribute to the development of the knowledge economy in Lebanon and to revitalize the economies of Tripoli and the North. Tripoli Special Economic Zone, https://tsez.gov.lb/kic, accessed 21 February 2019. The project will rehabilitate and use two structures (the administration and the customs buildings) and will add other structures in the empty space behind them.

20. Such resources include Kerr, J. (2013). Conservation Plan, 7th edition, Australia ICOMOS, https://australia. icomos.org/publications/the-conservation-plan/; The Burra Charter: The Australia ICOMOS Charter for Places of Cultural Significance, 2013, https://australia.icomos. org/wp-content/uploads/The-Burra-Charter-2013Adopted-31.10.2013.pdf, accessed 18 February 2019. ; ICOMOS International Scientific Committee on Twentieth Century Heritage, Madrid-New Delhi Document: Approaches to the Conservation of Twentieth - Century Cultural Heritage (2017), https://isc20c.icomos.org/ policy_items/madrid-new-dehlidoc/#:~:text=The%20 final%20text%3A%20Approaches%20for,English%20 for%20comment%20and%20discussion.(accessed 23 May 2022).

21. Several local initiatives working to enhance conservation law, find urban planning solutions, and spread interest and awareness on the values of Lebanese Modern architectural heritage are taking place. For instance, the Directorate General of Antiquities submitted a law proposal on Heritage Building Protection to the Lebanese Parliament in 2007. The proposal was amended and re-submitted to Parliament in 2015. Moreover, a Lebanese chapter of DOCOMOMO was establishment by the Arab Center for Architecture (ACA) in August 2012, with the aim of building a national registry of Modern architectural sites, and to spread awareness on the need to protect it. These are necessary steps working to change perceptions of Modern heritage, and to safeguard these sites for future generations. However, a lot more need to be done.

22. This aspect has reduced the budget that could have been dedicated for parallel activities, such as implementation of awareness activities to engage the general public, the translation of the CMP into Arabic, or others.

23. Niemeyer, O., “Feira Internacional e Permanente do Líbano em Trípoli,” Modulo 7, 30 (1962): p.2-3,7,9-10. http://www.niemeyer.org.br/obra/pro096.

24. “Une Expérience Collective,” Suspended Spaces 2, 2012; and “Inachever la Modernité’” Suspended Spaces 3, 2014; and Lahoud, A., “Architecture, the city and its scale: Oscar Niemeyer in Tripoli, Lebanon,” The Journal of Architecture 18, 6 (2013).

25. Lahoud, A., (2012). “The Problem of Scale: The city, the territory and the planetary,” (Unpublished doctoral dissertation at the University of Technology, Sydney).

26. The Tripoli Special Economic Zone (TSEZ) has been awarded through a presidential decree part of the RKIF site—75000 square meters that include the Administration and Custom Buildings designed by O. Niemeyer, in addition to some free land to invest as the Knowledge and Innovation Center for a period of 30 years https://www.tsez.gov.lb/kic/; Over the course of 2019, the TSEZ launched an international architecture competition, and the winning design was announced two weeks after the UNESCO CMP workshop on the 28th of June; https://www.tsez.gov.lb/kic/competition.

27. Investors, such as Tripolism International and the Construction and Rehabilitation Center (CRC), exposed two development project proposals respectively; the first is concerned with the Experimental Theatre being restored to be used as a theatre, opera and concert space and the second focuses on transforming the

Lebanon Pavilion into a high end restaurant.

28. Expertise France is implementing the Private Sector Development Project (PSD-P) in Lebanon, funded by the European Union. They rehabilitated one building of the Rachid Karami International Fairground in Tripoli in 2017 – the Guest House – to be used for their Minjara Project within the PSD-P project. Learn more about the Minjara project here: www.minjara.com; and the rehabilitation project by East Architecture here: https:// www.eastarchitecture.net/project/trp-the-guest-house/.

29. As a result of the discussions during this workshop, the Tripoli Special Economic Zone management became aware of the issues at stake concerning the new development and its effect on the RKIF’s integrity and authenticity. They promised to consider the site’s heritage value when choosing a winning design for the KIC competition, in addition to keeping the channels of communication open during the forthcoming design process.

SIDI HARAZEM THERMAL BATH STATION

TRACING THE GENESIS OF A FORGOTTEN POST-COLONIAL MODERNIST MASTERPIECE

BY AZIZA CHAOUNI, MOROCCO

SIDI HARAZEM THERMAL BATH STATION: The Genesis of a Post-Colonial Modernist Leisure Ground

1INTRODUCTION

1956 marked Morocco’s independence from the colonial yoke. Led by the charismatic King Mohammed V after his return from exile, the young state began to construct significant infrastructure and public projects. Modern and progressive architecture was deployed in order to express a built realm disenfranchised from western dominion.

Encouraged by the World Bank’s policies to spur economic development through tourism,1 the Moroccan state engaged in a series of large tourism projects spread across its territory: from the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts, to the southern Saharan regions. The state’s economic strategy worked to attract both foreign and national tourists by providing state-of-the-art facilities which could activate both traditional and contemporary forms of tourism.

As noted by the geographer Mohamed Berriane, national tourism prior to Morocco’s independence

was comprised mainly of moussems2 (religious festivals), and thermalism—with roots tracing back to Roman times3 (fig. 1). Given these histories it is no surprise that in 1959 the Moroccan state pension fund (Caisse des Dépots et de Gestion) chose to transform Sidi Harazem, an ancient site located twelve kilometers outside of Fes which has combined both touristic traditions for generations. The reinvigorated Sidi Harazem would become a modern tourist infrastructure grounded in Moroccan heritage. Moroccan-born architect JeanFrançois Zevaco saw the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex as a labour of love—he worked meticulously on the fourteen hectare site for sixteen years, between 1959 and 1975.4 The completed Complex was comprised of an entrance plaza, pool, hotel, bungalows, and two markets, all organized around a large courtyard which was described by Zevaco as a ryad (fig. 2).5

Although the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex was initially built as an integrated complex

Figure 1: Moussem Imilchil, 1960.

Figure 2: Sidi Harazem Aerial view CIRCA, 1964.

composed of public spaces and facilities, it has experienced major deterioration since the mid1980s. Zevaco’s carefully calibrated site plan and the large water features which celebrated the oasian context have transformed into disconnected pavilions comprising a dry archipelago. The causes of the Complex’s decline over the past forty years are multiple: beach tourism’s displacement of thermalism, the closure of several buildings and public spaces, a lack of expertise in the restoration of aging concrete structures, and most critically— the lack of an overall Conservation Management Plan and vision to reinvent the Complex in the face of a changing touristic landscape.

With the support of the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern program (KIMMHUP), as well as an international team including Aziza Chaouni Projects

(Morocco), Silman Structural Engineering (USA), and local consultants (NBR, Misdaq and Geodata), Aziza Chaouni Projects completed a Conservation Management Plan for the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex in December 2020.

The research process began with the challenge that archives which contained critical information about the site were spread across three different archives: Ecole National Architecture in Rabat, the CDG archives, and at FRAC Orléans (Fonds Regional d’Architecture Contemporaine) in France. Zevaco’s reclusive nature also meant that he had never written or published works related to his architecture. Only personal correspondence, office records, and a one interview he gave in 2001 (two years prior to his passing) existed. These documents were essential to forming an understanding of the

Figure 3: Post Office Agadir, J-F Zevaco (1961).

Complex and Zevaco’s design intent—and key to drafting a Conservation Management Plan.

This paper will work to highlight the data collection methodology undertaken by the CMP team: (1) understanding the socio-political context of the Complex, (2) tracing J.F. Zevaco’s conceptual and technical approaches at Sidi Harazem, (3) understanding the site context prior to the Complex’s construction, and (4) retrieving tangible and intangible knowledge on Zevaco’s original design. The goal for the CMP was to re-instate the site of the thermal baths as a major public ground for leisure ground. Working with local stakeholders and collaborative design methods were key towards the Complex’s collective future.

UNDERSTANDING SIDI HARAZEM’S SOCIO-POLITICAL CONTEXT

Where modern heritage from the first half of the twentieth century was thoroughly researched by seminal publications and exhibitions such as Casablanca Mythes et figures d’une aventure urbaine (2004), Africa Big Change Big Chance in Milan (exhibition, 2014), and Casablanca Chandigarh: A Report on Modernization (2014) at the Canadian Centre for Architecture,6 the second half of the century is grossly understudied.7 Many consider later modernism in Morocco as a mere continuation of the trendlines developed under the French protectorate. While pre-1956 modernism was considered a “laboratory for new ideas,” 8 later post-colonial iterations were seen to present with no true innovation. Moroccan architecture from the 1960s and 70s has been slowly stirring interest due to publications and exhibitions such as SOS Brutalism, a Global Survey (2018), and the work of MAMMA Group—a young coalition of activists whose members travel across Morocco documenting buildings from this era.9 Moreover, the KIM grant has helped to raise public awareness about Sidi Harazem and similar sites, placing a “modern expression of a territory,”10 back on the map.

In the face of limited information on the postcolonial architectural zeitgeist in Morocco, key texts included work by art historian Lucy Hofbauer, my own articles on post-colonial modernism in Morocco, Zevaco’s archives,11 and archives belonging to Zevaco’s contemporaries. A series of informal interviews led by Lucy and myself were held to supplement this information with oral histories and lived experiences related to the morphology of the Complex, including: Zevaco’s colleagues such

as Patrice de Mazières and the late Elie Azagury12; his collaborators such as the engineer Pierre Bordes, the draftsman Jaime Bozaglo, interior designer Clementine Braud, sculptor Olivier Seguin, and patrons (chiefly the Zniber family). The magazine Architecture d’Aujourd’hui was also an invaluable resource when it came to understanding the Thermal Complex’s context, as it consistently showcased architectural production in Morocco between the 1950s and 70s.

At the onset of its independence, Morocco’s architectural scene was unique compared to other North African colonial strongholds. Many of its foreign professionals decided to remain in the country. The struggle for independence was not as deleterious or lengthy as in other colonies— and trained professionals in post-independence Morocco were scarce.13 Simultaneously, many foreign architects had been born in Morocco, and as a result their practices were deeply rooted in and informed by the country’s culture, geography, and climate. This led to a certain level of continuity in Morocco’s colonial and post-independence architectural languages. However postindependence architecture could be characterized by a more situated form of modernism; a form at once dissociated from the dichotomies between tradition and modernism reflecting a young state’s quest for its own modern identity.14

The continuity of modernist language and discourse was reinforced by the persistence of GAMMA (Groupe d’Architectes Modernes Marocains), the CIAM branch in Morocco. Indeed, not only did its activities continue until 1959, but several of its key members including Elie Azagury and French architect Pierre Chalet remained active members.

GAMMA was initiated by Michel Ecochard, then head of urbanism in Morocco, at the CIAM 9 meeting in Aix-en-Provence (1953), and then spearheaded after Morocco’s independence by Moroccan architect Elie Azagury. Throughout the 1950s Group GAMMA echoed discourses by Team 10 which sought an alternative to Le Corbusier’s universalism. Through explorations in situated forms of modernism, GAMMA worked to consider local needs grounded in sociological, economic and climatic site investigations led by multidisciplinary teams.15 Celebrated illustrations of these approaches include the Nid D’Abeille midrise housing complex by ATBAT-Afrique and the vast Carrières Centrale shantytown re-housing scheme by Georges Candillis, Shadrach Woods, and Alexis Josic. Both projects offered innovative interpretations of the traditional Moroccan courtyard house and incensed at the time by Peter and Alison Smithson.16

GAMMA’s architects were not unequivocally virulent against all of Corbusier’s precepts. For instance, Azagury advocated for The Athen’s Charter as GAMMA’s town-planning bible and the Modulor as his favorite office companion,”17 while Ben Embarek stated in his eulogy for Le Corbusier that he has taught African architects “less of a style but rather a doctrine, a manner to formulate a problem.”18

After the official end of CIAM in 1959, group GAMMA was dismantled but its members continued to meet informally, exchange ideas, organize exhibitions, even starting the first Moroccan architecture and urbanism magazine A+U, edited by Ben Embarek. Aside from Ben Embarek, the informal group of friends included Elie Azagury, Jean-Francois Zevaco, Abdelslam Faraoui, Patrice Demazières,

Henri Tastemain, Jean Challet, Armand Amzallag, Claude Verdugo, and Pierre Mas. Most of them were Moroccan-born young design professionals trained in Europe and were in awe of Group GAMMA’s discourse.19

In 1959, their joint efforts to rebuild the city of Agadir after it was destroyed by an earthquake gave rise to a unique form of modern architectural language with strong brutalist undertones, still noted today for its aesthetic homogeneity and the quality of its construction.20 This language is characterized by raw textured concrete contrasting

smooth white-washed lime surfaces, ribbon windows, cantilevers, and the expression of structural elements on façades. Completed in 1961, Zevaco’s bunker-like post office is emblematic of this style, which, despite its modern undertones, is more endogenous than it first appears (fig.3).

For instance, the building’s narrow horizontal slit windows and introversion are ideally adapted to Agadir’s year-long sunny climate. The post office’s subtle articulation of bright daylight through the use of protruding structural elements on its façade and a flag post as well as interior built-in furniture,

Figure 4: Columns at Sidi Harazem.

"There, one could find a cantina, a small thermal station and Berber village composed of huts, built with branches and mud, and topped with storks’ nests.” [Amid]

“shaded orchards, woods and palm trees groves,” sick visitors swam in the hot spring and in a pool covered with a brick cupola.”

Figure 5a: A plan of Zevaco's studio.

showcasing carefully detailed local wood and copper work further celebrate vernacular design.

Zevaco was commissioned by CDG21 (the state pension fund) to design the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex as reconstruction efforts in Agadir were commencing. The collaborative efforts by young Moroccan designers in Agadir almost certainly influenced Zevaco’s work in Sidi Harazem.

ZEVACO: THE GENIUS OUTSIDER

J.F. Zevaco was among the architects in GAMMA who remained after Morocco gained its independence. Zevaco was born in Casablanca in 1906. He completed his architectural studies in the Ecole des beaux Arts in Paris in 1948 where he was a pupil of Emmanuel Pontrémoli – the architect of the mythical Villa Kérylos in the French Riviera. Then, Zevaco appretinced at Eugène Beaudoin’s studio in Marseilles during the Nazi occupation of France. Upon his return to Morocco in 1947, he promptly launched his own architectural practice.

Months before Morocco’s independence—as protests and uprisings intensified—Zevaco applied for an architecture license in Marseille in case he would be forced to leave the country. However,

in a subsequent letter to the Marseilles Order of Architects he cancels his application stating the "entrenched intertwinement between his architecture and Morocco."

Prior to Morocco’s independence Zevaco completed private commissions such as the famous Villa Suissa (1949), a bourgeois residence with a soaring butterfly balcony that he daringly placed on a very public corner site originally meant for a gas Complex. He also completed the Tit Melil Airport (1951) with curved lines reminiscent of the art deco style. The airport’s conical columns are indicative of Zevaco’s obsession with sculpting the structure of his buildings as demonstrated in Sidi Harazem’s cylindrical columns in the pool building, chainlike double square columns in the entrance plaza, spiral columns along the ryad’s pergolas, and the V columns upon which the hotel is lifted (fig. 4). In the years following independence Zevaco’s private commissions dwindled, and he embarked on public commissions for large institutional buildings ranging from court houses, offices, markets, and schools (including the School for Teachers in Ouarzazate, schools for the French Mission, and the Tit Melil re-education center).

Figure 5b: Zevaco's studio fence.

Figure 6: A view of the courtyard at Sidi Harazem today (2021).

“Among all that has nourished my imagination and my sensitivity I would quote in bulk and without preferential order, Mozart, Valery, Rainer Maria Rilke, Chillida, Bach, Ravel, Fauré and myriad other brilliant personalities that I regret not being able to cite because the list would be too long.”

J.F. ZEVACO

Figure 7: Postcard from the colonial era depicting the oasis of Sidi Harazem.

Figure 8: Panorama of the site constructed by Zevaco.

Figure 9: Plan from the service of urbanism service showing the Sidi Harazem site context (1958).

Although Zevaco’s architecture somewhat reflects GAMMA’s aesthetic, its departures are notable. Zevaco’s work considered architecture as a total work of art—from poetic interpretations, connections to Moroccan landscapes, and strong references to local motifs. Nowhere is this characterization of Zevaco’s work more vivid than in this answer he gave at the dawn of his career about his influences that fed his work:

“Among all that has nourished my imagination and my sensitivity I would quote in bulk and without preferential order, Mozart, Valery, Rainer Maria Rilke, Chillida, Bach, Ravel, Fauré and myriad other brilliant personalities that I regret not being able to cite because the list would be too long. I played the cello for a long time and sang, but it was the concrete with its wide expressive possibilities that allowed me to express myself fully. Michelangelo said that something is missing from the artist who has not practiced architecture. It could be said that the opposite is also true, that the architect who has not practiced the art of music and poetry, disciplines that address - exasperating - his sensitivity, is devoid of anything.

So many are the expressions that architecture welcomes, but which it also has in itself and of which it nourishes itself. Architecture is both the content and the container, the substratum and in some ways the model, shaped by man and his imagination. Whether it is architecture, painting, music or poetry, art is an inseparable whole, and architecture is the most significant, primordial element that assembles all the other arts to form, with the help of the gods, one whole.”22

His colleagues Azagury, Demazière and Ben Embarek all agreed on the same adjectives to define Zevaco’s architecture: unpredictable, genial and personal. His introverted, lone and tortured nature led to his independence, free from the dogmas of currents of thought. Critics blamed him for being too much of a mannered formalist and perfectionist who could not adhere to a budget. Art Historian Lucy Hofbauer justly points to the fact that Zevaco’s villa and studio (fig. 5), with its thorny metal fence and introverted plan centered around a large oculus, was itself a self-portrait of the architect: reclusive, private, allying pure generic forms with organic forms, and in constant dialogue with a local referent. The courtyard (or ryad) became a leitmotif central to Sidi Harazem’s design.

Unlike his GAMMA contemporaries, Zevaco’s architecture integrated local references as well as imaginaries far beyond the prototypical European offerings: Brazilian odern architecture, Japanese Metabolism, and Californian Modernism. Of note is MOMA’s 1943 exhibition Brazil Builds: New and Old Architectures, 1652-1942, which left an impression on Zevaco. The exhibition was featured in several magazines he received: such as the Architectural Review (March 1944) as well as L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui (September 1947).23

Sidi Harazem’s ryad and its blue mosaic-clad basins is the perfect example of Zevaco’s hybrid approach. At once, the ryad (fig. 6) conveys traditional Moroccan courtyards through its distribution of water features and gardens, references motifs from Berber carpets, and alludes to Russian Supremacist paintings.24

Figure 10: Zevaco’s hand sketches over the site.

ESQUISSES D’AVANT-PROJET

VARIANTES DÉVELOPPÉES PAR ZEVACO

scheme 1

scheme 2

legend

a oasis/ public garden

b mausoleum

Le plan ci-dessus a été élaboré à partir de la plus ancienne archive retrouvée jusqu’à présent du projet de construction d’une station thermale pour Sidi Harazem. Il date du 19 septembre 1956, soit six mois après l’Indépendance du Maroc.

c pipeline bringing water to the new thermal station

modernisme, des différents éléments de programmation qui sont ici séparés dans des zones bien distinctes : les nouvelles habitations sont proches de l’emplacement de l’ancien village, à proximité de l’oasis. Plus au sud sont installés l’hôtel thermal et le centre medico-thermal. Entre ces deux zones se trouvent des programmes mixtes : la mosquée et le marché.

f thermal hotel

g administration

La deuxième proposition change radicalement de la première, bien qu’il existe certaines continuités conceptuelles. En effet, Zevaco propose à nouveau ici un système dans lequel les fonctions sont séparées en trois zones distinctes.

h village hall

i bus stop

l mosque

m hotel

d pool changing rooms

e therpeutical thermal center

Nous pouvons y remarquer le projet d’une gare routière, qui visait sans doute à améliorer la connexion entre Fès et Sidi Harazem. En effet, dès les années 1920, un train à vapeur assurant la liaison Fès-Taza faisait un arrêt à quelques kilomètres au nord de Sidi Harazem, condamnant les visiteurs à marcher une longue distance avant de pouvoir atteindre l’oasis et le mausolée.

Remarquons aussi l’approche fonctionnaliste, propre au

j ryad

k walkway

Du côté sud : l’entrée, l’oasis aménagée et le centre médicothermal sont adjacents à l’oasis et au mausolée. Du côté nord, les pensions de famille prennent la forme d’immeubles organisés le long d’un tracé sinueux qui rappellent la démarche des architectes Candilis Josic Woods, agence qui marqua fortement le paysage architectural Casablancais. Les logements collectifs et l’hôtel sont tous deux remplacés par un vaste ensemble de pensions de famille, illustrant le souhait du

n family boarding houses

commanditaire d’attirer avant tout des touristes Marocains dans la future station thermale. L’accent est mis sur la circulation des piétons : un portique reliant les trois groupes d’hôtels et de pensions de famille devient la colonne vertébrale du projet.

o entrance

p public pools

Cette esquisse révèle avant tout l’importance que Zevaco accorde à l’eau, qui devient progressivement l’élément clé de son projet. Chacune des trois zones se voit dotée d’un élément hydraulique. De plus, l’architecte étend ici considérablement l’étendue des bassins de la palmeraie et canalise l’eau de source afin qu’elle irrigue l’ensemble du projet.

La troisième proposition abandonne l’approche par « zonage » moderniste au profit d’un espace unifié et relié par le tracé continu de la circulation piétonne. Le parcours ininterrompu des portiques à travers le site, qui apparait dès la seconde esquisse, prend ici la forme d’un U encadrant un jardin rectangulaire et central que Zevaco appellera le riad. Connectant les différents programmes de la station entre eux, ce portique - sorte de pergolas couverte - débute à partir de la buvette située dans l’oasis et invite à la déambulation à travers une promenade ombragée qui traverse tout le site.

De nouveaux programmes sont ajoutés : une salle des fêtes/ cinéma/ spectacles, l’administration pour les pensions de famille et quatre hôtels

ordinaires, présent Notons esquisse une mausolée il ne bord établit son permet, l’installation - qu’il de la de préserver et naturel créer de station de l’eau,

ordinaires, en plus de l’hôtel thermal présent dans l’esquisse précédente.

Notons également que dans cette esquisse Zevaco propose d’établir relation nouvelle entre le mausolée et le reste de la station place plus l’entrée du site au de l’oasis et du mausolée, mais établit au contraire une distance entre projet et le sanctuaire. Il ne se permet, comme seule intrusion, que l’installation d’une fontaine publique qu’il appelle buvette - à l’intérieur palmeraie. Zevaco décide ici préserver l’espace patrimonial naturel autour du mausolée et de créer un lien avec le nouveau projet station thermale à travers le thème l’eau, qui ici prend sa source.

scheme 3

scheme 4

La quatrième esquisse est très proche de la proposition finale que formulera Zevaco. Ce plan est semblable à bien des égards au précédent : le concept général, son programme et l’emplacement de l’essentiel des bâtiments.

Les seuls changements concernent : - La relocalisation de l’hôtel thermal près du centre médico-thermal - La suppression du marché, qui réapparaîtra dans son projet final à l’extrême sud de la station - L’ajout d’un bassin à plusieurs niveaux au bord du lac artificiel - La piscine intègre l’architecture dans le paysage du site

Zevaco place ses piscines au centre du lac artificiel, soulignant ainsi l’interaction entre l’eau et la station

scheme 5 - final version

LEGENDE

thermale dans son ensemble. Le thème de l’eau se trouve ici en effet renforcé. L’eau n’irrigue pas seulement le riad et les piscines, elle est l’objet de connexion entre tous les espaces, un fil continu qui fait le lien entre les différents programmes et bâtiments de la station thermale, mais aussi entre le passé et le présent de l’oasis.

arbres

jardins

pergolas couvertes de rondins de bois

fontaine

lac artificiel

piscine

bassins

accès hôtel

parking

pensions de familles

hôtel

services divers

marché

Nord

Figure 11: Masterplan evolution.

a oasis / jardin public

b mausolée

c canalisation amenant l’eau vers la nouvelle station thermale

d vestiaires de la piscine

e centre thérapeutique thermal f hôtel thermal

g administration (poste, police, administration de la station thermale)

h salle des fêtes

arrêt de bus riad

k marché

mosquée

m hôtels

n pensions de famille

o signal d’entrée p piscines publiques

SITE BEFORE THE THERMAL COMPLEX

To better grasp Zevaco’s transformation of the Sidi Harazem thermal baths, we researched the site’s condition prior to its construction. We began with a review of the archives at the Ministry of Urbanism and the rural commune of Sidi Harazem, which unfortunately had very little to offer. We began to collect artifacts such as postcards and guidebooks. Oral histories from elders who had been displaced from the site in 1963 (three years after construction had started) greatly shaped our understanding of the ancient thermal baths. Moroccan historians mention that in the eighth century, the Sultan Abu El Hassan erected a shrine over Sidi Harazem’s tomb and an adjacent pool, covered by a cupola and fed by spring water.25 In travel literature, the oldest account we found was from sixteenth century diplomat and author Leo Africanus, who describes Sidi Harazem as a popular leisure and spiritual ground for Fez’ inhabitants in his book Descrittione dell’Africa (1550.)26

In 1925, the famous Hachette Guide Bleu revolutionized the French tourism publishing industry and launched its first Moroccan issue in 1925—mentioning Sidi Harazem as a must-see excursion outside of Fez. It continued to mention Sidi Harazem from 1932 onwards. The first issue advises visitors to “leave the main road […], then turn right [for 2km on a dirt road towards] the small valley of Sidi Harazem river, which suddenly gets strangled to form a deep and lush gorge.27 There, one could find a cantina, a small thermal Complex, and a Berber village composed of huts built with branches and mud and topped with storks’ nests. [Amongst] shaded orchards, woods, and palm trees groves, sick visitors swam in the hot spring and in a pool covered with a brick cupola.” 28

In a 1929 travelogue by British author L.E. Bickerstaffe, Sidi Harazem is further described at length.29 Of importance is his portrayal of the existing settlement: “a primitive African Village, typical of the plains. The few huts are all little one-storied dwellings made of earth, thatched with reeds or

Figure 12: Detailed physical model of Sidi Harazem.

straw or branches of trees, and groups of them are surrounded by protective hedges of prickly shrubs. The setting of the village is very characteristic too— for the houses are clustered in a haphazard fashion about a saint’s tomb. […. a hot Spring has an outlet and forms a pool where little boys dive and swim with shrieks of merry laughter. A bathing pool for women is more discreetly hidden, behind a high white wall.” Bickerstaffe also mentions that local men and women work in the fields nearby, leaving the oasis to children, who “follow the visitor with bunches of wild flowers, asking for tips, at the time of departure.”29

The first 1971 Fodor Guide to Morocco contains the first mention of the Zevaco’s new Thermal Complex, albeit in one terse sentence: “[Sidi Harazem] is a Berber village that boasts a new Thermal Hotel built on pile.”

Postcards from the colonial era (fig. 7), confirm the descriptions found in the aforementioned guides, and clearly show the oasis simultaneously as a work space and watering ground for locals and their

animals, as well as a space of leisure, swimming, and relaxing strolls.

According to my grandmother who lived in Fez from 1920 to 1968, a trip to Sidi Harazem was a monthly ritual for local families. Fassis would spend the day bathing and picnicking, returning to Fez a few hours before sunset. Many took a now-defunct train route that used to link Fez with Taza, a stop two kilometers north of the Sidi Harazem shrine.

By 1957, the Sidi Harazem spring was comprised of a shrine, a covered pool, and three outdoor pools (one for men, one for women and one for children and youth), all set around the shrine. The rest of the area was informally occupied by street vendors with no proper infrastructure. The Complex was extremely popular during this time, and by 1959, three thousand monthly visitors would arrive by train to Sidi Harazem ( this number excludes those who arrived by other means).

Zevaco took a series of photographic panoramas (assembled with tape) right before and during early

Figure 13: Image taken during construction.

Figure 14: Diagram of water circulation through the station.

1 floating pool

2 stairs leading to the pools

3 large shaded area with refreshment bar

4 waterfalls

5 water buffet

6 ryad

7 pool in the Kissaria

legend 6

5

4

3 2

1

stages of construction (fig. 8). They reveal not only the site condition, but also Zevaco’s perceptions of the site as a wide, open, rolling, arid landscape containing a lush oasis, devoid of buildings. His photos do not show the existing small Berber village, which he was planning to relocate in a tabula rasa fashion, typical of the modern style. Our interviews with two elders from Sidi Harazem revealed that the original village was composed of a few dozen families who subsisted on farming— cultivating land belonging to rich Fassi owners, harvesting dates from the oasian palm trees, and offering services to visitors. Life was pleasant until construction started in 1960. Villagers were moved a few kilometers south to the top of a barren hill— told that tourism and housing were programs that should not mix. Families were given one single rammed earth room, a monthly bag of flour, and a promise of jobs at Zevaco’s Complex. Although locals were in fact provided with jobs at the new complex the financial benefits did not last as they had expected. Disconnected from their farmlands and oasis, many remained traumatized by this displacement: for instance Zahra Sadok (eightyseven years old) has not returned to the oasis since the late sixties, complaining that the new facilities were meant for outsiders rather than for the villagers. Today the new hilltop settlement is called Skhinat.

A 1958 plan from the Urbanism Service (fig. 9) gave us insight into the site’s original valley topography, as well as existing buildings, which were sparsely distributed (mainly east of the main road). A hydrological report mentioned that the oasis actually boasted five springs covered by a thick layer of travertine. It also determined the

emergence of these springs was the combined result of the presence of a fault line as well as a hydrogeological system comprised of fifty meter thick lias (hard limestone), dolomite, sandstone and clay. This unique landscape is full of contrasts— fluctuating between arid and lush, flat and steep, earth and travertine—it would become the perfect canvas for Zevaco’s design. Zevaco’s architecture enhanced, framed and magnified its shifting beauty. He created a parallel concrete landscape softened by mosaics, bamboo, wood, and copper.

5DESIGN OF THE COMPLEX MASTERPLAN

In the FRAC archives in Orléans France, we were lucky to find Zevaco’s early design drawings for the Complex. His first hand sketches were drawn in pencil atop existing topographic lines: he first erased the village huts and drafted new water routes (fig. 10) then integrated his building shapes along the landscape.

A series of draft masterplans (fig. 11) gives us an incredible insight into the Complex’s design genesis, and a better understanding of the elements that Zevaco valued and kept throughout the evolution of his scheme.

In the first masterplan in this series, Zevaco follows a functionalist modern approach through which different programmatic functions are separated into zones: the thermal hotel and treatment center are situated near the spring, while housing is located south near the location of the original village. In between these two zones shared programs are placed: the mosque, as well as the

market and shopping arcades. In keeping with the modernist tradition, the scheme centralizes the importance of the car by featuring roads connecting the Complex’s various programs, a position which would shift in subsequent iterations of the scheme. The placement of programs on the site and the general organization of the masterplan remained consistent—archipelagos of buildings connected by a grid of circulation axes.

In the next scheme, the housing would disappear. Zevaco replaced the housing with ‘pensions de familles,’ known today as bungalows. They reflect the client’s desire to focus on national tourism. These bungalows showcase an interesting mix of modernist language and traditional references— the units are organized around courtyards crossed by water channels and adorned with trees and water basins. There is an emphasis on pedestrian circulation: the bungalows showcase what appears to be a covered loggia or spine connecting the three clusters of family hotels. This loggia concept remained as a leitmotif in later schemes for the Complex. Zevaco’s engagement with water would also subsist through to the constructed scheme.

The third proposal is close to Zevaco’s final design. The modernist zoning approach is definitely abandoned: the project starts to read as a continuous unit privileging pedestrian circulation. The idea of the continuous interconnected loggias introduced in the second scheme is now organized in a rectangular U-shape, framing a central garden (later known as the ryad). The loggia begins from a public fountain located in the oasis then links all the buildings of the Complex. Only a road leading to the parking area servicing the family bungalows interrupts the U-shape. New programs

are proposed: an auditorium (salle de spectacle), an administration building for the bungalows, and four conventional hotels—in addition to the thermal hotel present in the previous scheme. We can speculate that these hotels were meant to cater to visitors not seeking thermal treatment. At last, the relationship of the project to the ancient mausoleum and oasis changes: Zevaco no longer places his entrance adjacent to the mausoleum’s, but rather leaves a distance between his project and the shrine. The only intrusion in the oasian zone is the placement of a public fountain. We can see in this gesture Zevaco’s intention connect old and new, and his aim to keep the spring water closer to its original setting.

The fourth proposal is very close to Zevaco’s final design. This scheme is similar in many regards to the previous one. The core concept is consistent, with most building placement and programs remaining the same. The only changes were the relocation of the thermal hotel near the treatment center and the addition of a pool by the artificial lake. The pool’s shape and its lower basin floating amid the article lagoon both work to situate the architecture within the landscape. Finally, the theme of water is further strengthened: water not only interweaves with the central courtyard, but it also serves as a connecting device between all of the Complex’s buildings. The placement of the pool floating within an artificial lake further reflects Zevaco’s intention to give a more important role to the interplay between water and architecture.

In the final scheme, best shown in this model (fig. 12), Zevaco refines the connection between the oasis and the Complex by developing an extensive system of canals, passages and basins leading to a waterfall by the pool. With this change Zevaco creates a soft buffer zone between the natural oasis and his new concrete landscape—transforming a part of the landscape that was flat and devoid of trees. In photos taken during the construction process, one can see that the aforementioned buffer zones and eastern hills are both being planted (fig. 13).

Another key change Zevaco brought to his final plan is shifting the ‘pensions des familles’ from linear bars to densely packed courtyard units reminiscent of traditional Moroccan medinas. He also added a vegetable and meat market to the south to service the bungalows.

Figure 15: The pool at the bottom of the valley

Ultimately only a portion of Zevaco’s ambitious plan was completed: first the Market and Bungalows were completed; followed the pool, hotel and the entrance plaza. Zevaco’s ambitious landscaped space in the buffer zone between his project and the oasis was never completed—likely due to a lack of funds, and the space remained vacant.

Unsurprisingly the presence of water was the common motif throughout the schemes, and its presence ended up shaping every single space of the project, marking a promenade which wove throughout the site.

In order to accomplish this feat Zevaco aggravated the slope of the site in order to ensure water could flow seamlessly from the oasis, to the public plaza, through to the area underneath the hotel lifted by pilotis, across the ryad, culminating in the pyramidal market (fig. 14). Similarly, water flowed from the plaza to the pools through a monumental stair which Zevaco embedded into the cliff’s edge, and integrated with fountains, basins and even a waterfall. Even the bungalows’ narrow alleyways are adorned with water canals doubling as a rain water drainage system. Traditional blue square mosaics native to Fez mark key moments along Zevaco’s water system. For example, in the public fountain’s vertical grooves, the sculptural volumes in the faountain underneath the hotel, and in some of the ryad’s basins (to name a few). Finally, the stunning spring-fed pool with its pure geometry floats above a pool fed by channels diverting discarded pool water. The ancillary programming (changing rooms) are hidden on a lower level. An extraordinary moment occurs in the project when one views the contrast between the natural pond’s

edges which integrate with the topography, and the pure circular form of the pool. The circular motif is emphasized by the pool’s circular canopy and its circular shadow.

Zevaco blends natural and artificial systems as seamlessly as a body of water trapped at the bottom of a valley, “as unexpected as a sebkhah, a traditional temporary water retention basin”30 (fig. 15).

Given the significance of Zevaco’s water systems it was essential that the CMP team find find plumbing plans at the masterplan level. We complemented the couple plans we found on site investigations, which showed that the system was in need of new pumps and partial replacement in some zones.

6COLLECTING DATA ON THE BUILDINGS’ ORIGINAL DESIGNS

The CMP team was able to retrieve most of the architectural drawings, plans, sections and elevations for the site’s buildings and public spaces. However, technical drawings were only available for the entrance plaza. This meant that the CMP engineering team had to make informed assumptions, as the whole team had made a decision to limit our investigations to critical technical details which would likely require replacement –such as this bridge or stair (fig. 16). Our investigations also found undated versions of some drawing sets for a given building or open space. This issue was especially problematic for spaces that experienced heavy alterations and for which we have no photographic record, such as the pool and its surrounding, the entrance plaza,

the northern part of the ryad and the southern market building. Further complicating matters—in interviews with Zevaco’s colleagues31 they revealed that he often made changes during construction. How could the CMP determine Zevaco’s designs for the aforementioned buildings? In order to address these questions, the CMP team developed several strategies to account for missing data.

First, plans that were collected were carefully reconstructed digitally. These digital reconstructions were then contrasted with the existing site condition in order to determine the degree to which these documents were aligned with the final iteration of the site. It was sometimes revealed that no final drawings existed for particular portions of the site. Second, the CMP team worked to document the collective memories of Sidi Harazem’s users and the local population, particularly throughout the 1960s and 1970s when the site was mostly intact. To that end, the CMP team developed a Facebook page for the rehabilitation project and launched a campaign

called “Je me Souviens,” supported with videos of the site, interviews with site stakeholders (including Zevaco’s relatives). This accomplished two goals:

(1) sensitizing Moroccans to the significance of Sidi Harazem, and (2) asking users of the site to share their memories in written, ,oral, or photographic form (fig. 17). Given the team’s lack of experience with advertising, the campaign encountered limited success—with only a few we photos, postcards and testimonies received. Despite these limited numbers, the archival documents we received shed some light on the site’s original construction, such as the original floor material on the ground floor of the hotel. Some information was provided to us in unexpected ways. In June 2017 we launched a series of collaborative workshops with market workers, youth, and children. The workshops were designed to collaboratively determine the Complex’s existing problems and future programming. In the second set of meetings, participants brought old postcards and photographs. Postcards in particular helped us better understand how Zevaco conceived the

Figure 16: Bridge and stair in need of replacement.

artificial lake and open façades around the pool. In cases where no visual records were found we relied on oral histories. For example, Zevaco’s drawings showed three different types of canopies for the entrance plaza: concrete, wood lattice and wood beam canopies. Today, only steel connectors protruding from the underside of the Vierendeel concrete trusses remain. The CMP team wondered whether the canopies were actually built or placed. Oral histories varied and contradicted themselves. Some people interviewed mentioned that the canopies never existed, others said that only the concrete canopies existed, others that canopies existed but were removed because a concrete one fell and cut off a man’s legs after an earthquake. In the end, a site report from 1973 mentioned Zevaco’s anger: the contractor did not comply with the connectors and screws prescribed for the concrete canopies, and he refused to complete the job per the architect’s specifications. This unfinished detail was sadly the cause of the tragedy that occurred on the plaza. The mystery was solved. The question for the next phase of the CMP was to decide if there was a need to re-introduce canopies. If canopies were to be introduced, which materials could the aging Vierendeel trusses (which span 27.5 m) accommodate (fig. 18).

7COLLECTING DATA ON THE CURRENT STATE OF BUILDINGS

In order to determine the history of alterations and transformations to the Complex’s buildings, public spaces, and landscapes since the site opened, we cross-referenced photos (when available) with drawings and primary sources’

accounts. We categorized the changes into three main categories: additions, alterations, removals, not functioning, and change of function/ program. Then, we documented these changes on plans and sections. When the significance of specific site components (such as the water systems) were overlayed with these drawings, a phasing system and set of proposed guidelines for the Complex began to emerge.Where drawing sets for certain areas of the site did not exist—such as the ryad—a 3D scanner was used and gave us very accurate results. Our overall analysis of changes revealed that the Complex underwent an unlucky series of questionable restorations. In 2000, the Rural Commune of Sidi Harazem commissioned Carey Duncan, an American landscape architect based in Rabat, for the rehabilitation of the entrance plaza and the design of the southern park (which was meant to house more bungalows in Zevaco’s masterplans). The plaza’s original poured concrete floor was covered with new tiles which have already begun to break down. Many original water features and planters were also removed. In addition, the buffer zone between the plaza and the oasis, which was meant to be an extension of the oasis, was adorned with large rectangular grass areas. The fountain was covered with traditional multicolored tiles, diluting Zevaco’s selective use of blue tiles in grooved areas. In the South park, Duncan broke free from Zevaco’s grid and proposed a Beaux Arts park with a new fountain, large grass parterres and a central alleyway flanked with palm trees. In these two public areas, informal markets emerged due to the lack of adequate facilities to house sellers and the closure of Zevaco’s original market. Clearly, the goal of Duncan’s proto-rehabilitation was to erase the brutalist aesthetic of the place, and in

Figure 17: Engaging the collective memory of Sidi Harazem users and locals through social media.

Our findings make it evident that the CMP’s main goal should be to preserve the quintessential elements that define Zevaco’s concept and reverberate in the rest of his oeuvre, namely water features, materiality, structure and the surrounding landscape.

Figure 18: Vierendeel truss.

the process she killed the plaza’s soul: its water features.33

In 2000, while Zevaco was still alive, one of his previous interns Jean-Paul Ichter was commissioned by the CDG to revamp the aging hotel. Although Ichter’s work did not damage the structure or key features (such as the stairs) in a significant way, he Morrocanized the hotel in an unwarranted manner. Bathroom tiles were placed on the floors of the rooms and of the ground floor with the intention of mimicking Zevaco’s original design of tricolored formica bands. The beautiful bar was demolished and redesigned, the walls were covered with traditional Moroccan tiles, etc. The north part of the courtyard was subject to the same material lamination treatment and a new pool and showers were introduced—although luckily they respected the shapes of the original basins.

The pool is the building that has been tampered with the most significantly. In 2012, the pool and land around the pool was leased by the Commune Rurale of Sidi Harazem, that had become the new owner of the pool after a donation by CDG. Subsequently, a series of additions were added including a covered pool and an outdoor pool with a café—which destroyed the relationship between the pool’s architecture and its surrounding landscape. The coup de grâce was the disappearance of the laguna that surrounded the pool which was partly built upon and left into disarray.

8CONCLUSION

Filled with hurdles such as limited literature, resources, and incomplete archival material, the journey to define the context around the genesis of the Complex, its original design, and its current condition led us to develop methods we had not initially anticipated. In the end, a community of local stakeholders (vendors, peddlers, local youth, swimming instructors, gardeners, hotel staff etc.) helped to build our knowledge of the site.

Our findings make it evident that the CMP’s main goal should be to preserve the quintessential elements that defined Zevaco’s original concept— particularly those that reverberate in the rest of his oeuvre—water features, materiality, structure, and ties to the landscape. Our challenge is to facilitate a harmony between the CMP’s priorities and a viable year-round economic model for the Complex. This needs to uplift and empower the local community that was uprooted from the site fifty-six years ago. To achieve this balance, our approach is to focus on creating new forms of tourism and leisure programs (developed collaboratively with locals), whilst rehabilitating the Complex’s buildings and landscapes.

ENDNOTES

1. Charles F. Stewart, The economy of Morocco, 1912-1962 (Harvard University Press, 1964): pg. 147

2. Moussems occur annually and are held at a saint’s sanctuary. Some are vast in scale, bringing together a concourse of many thousands and are the occasions of folk dancing, powder play, and other diversions which may last several days. Pilgrims would usually stay with locals or in tents.

3. Mohamed Berriane, "Tourisme national et migrations de loisirs au Maroc," Etude géographique. Publications de la Faculté des Lettres et des Sciences Humaines de Rabat. Série: Thèses et Mémoires,16 (1992): 152.

4. Assumption made based on drawings found of the station. FRAC Orleans archives, ENA Rabat Archive, CDG archives, personal archive of the daughter of Zevaco Dominique Teboul.

5. In Moroccan colloquial Arabic, the ryad is the central courtyard in the traditional homes, usually found in the medinas. In large houses, it is adorned with gardens and water features. Ryad has lately been used in Morocco to refer to the entire courtyard house. In classical Arabic ryad means gardens, plural of rawda.

6. In both Casablanca: Mythes et figures d’une aventure urbaine and Casablanca Chandigard, Morocco was deemed a ‘laboratory’ for architects and urbanists up to independence, and chiefly under the guidance of head of urbanism Michel Ecochard. Avermaete, T., Casciato, M., Barrada, Y., Honma, T., & Zardini, M. (2014). Casablanca Chandigarh: a report on modernization. Montréal: Canadian Centre for Architecture.; Cohen, J.-L., & Eleb, M. (2002). Casablanca: colonial myths and architectural ventures. New York: Monacelli.

7. With the exception of 1) Thierry Nadau’s seminal book chapter on the reconstruction of Agadir. Nadau, T. (1992). La reconstruction d’Agadir ou le destin de l’architecture moderne au Maroc. In M. Culot & J.-M. Thiveaud (Eds.), Architectures françaises outre-mer: Abidjan, Agadir, Alep, Alger, Bangui, Beyrouth, Brazzaville, Cansado, Casablanca, Conakry, Dakar, Damas, Hanoi, Libreville, Niamey, Orleansville, Ouagadougou, Riyadh, Tananarive, Tunis, Yaounde (pp. 147–175). Liège: Mardaga.; and t2) the unpublished : dissertation of on the reconstruction of Agadir of E.L.G Bernasconi, Verso un’antica lingua moderna. La città di Agadir e l’opera di Jean-Francois Zevaco.

8. Monique Eleb, Edited by Goldhagen, S. Modernism.

9. MAMMA group findings can be found on their facebook page: MAMMA. (n.d.). Facebook. https://www.facebook.

com/MAMMA.GROUP/

10. Lucy Hofbauer, "Fabrique du tourisme et expériences patrimoniales au Maghreb, XIXe-XXIe siècles," Le mouvement moderne marocain à l’épreuve du tourisme (1950-1970). In Isnart, C., Mus-Jelidi, C., & Zytnicki, C. (Eds.), Rabat: Centre Jacques-Berque. (2018): (pp.17).

11. The archives of Zevaco we consulted are located in: FRAC Orléans, ENA and CDG.

12. Aziza Chaouni, Interview with Elie Azagury. Journal of Architectural Education, 68(2), (2014): 210–216. doi: 10.1080/10464883.2014.943632

13. For more information on this scarcity of experts see: Nevill, Barbour, Morocco. (London: Thames and Hudson,1965), pp. 185-186. “Independence had […] come much sooner than even the most optimistic national list has expected […]. It had the disadvantage hat independence came when Morocco was still pitifully short of professional men, of teachers, and of technicians. […] Eight years later 7,000 foreign experts are still employed by the departments and some 7,000 teachers in the school.”

14. Aziza Chaouni, "D. Lu (Ed.), Third World Modernism: Architecture, Development and Identity," Depoliticizing Group GAMMA: Contesting modernism in Morocco, (New York: Routledge, 2011), pp. 57–84.

15. The CIAM grid presented by Ecochard at the CIAM meeting in Aix-En-Provence illustrates a new approach to town planning; an approach which permeated GAMMA’s discourse post and pre-independence. The social housing project Nid d’Abeille by ATBAT Afrique with its hanging courtyards (1952–1953) and the Derb Jdid housing project by Elie Azagury (1957–1960) are good examples of GAMMA members’ architectural production. For the Nid d’Abeille building and Ecochard’s grid see: Avermaete, T., Casciato, M., Barrada, Y., Honma, T., & Zardini, M. (2014). Casablanca Chandigarh: a report on modernization. Montréal: Canadian Centre for Architecture. For the Derb Jdid housing project by Azagury see: Chaouni, 2011 (see bibliography)

16. Alison Smithson & Peter Smithson, Collective Housing in Morocco. Architectural Design. 25 (1955): pp. 2–7.

17. GAMMA meetings minute notes, Elie Azagury private archive, now deposited at the Cité de l’Architecture et du Patrimoine in Paris

18. Mourad Ben Embarek, "Mort du Corbusier," A+U Revue Africaine d’Architecture Et d’Urbanisme, 4 (1966): pp. 10–11.

19. P. Mas, "Agadir 1960–1965," A+U Revue Africaine d’Architecture et d’Urbanisme, 4 (1966): pp. 6–7.

20. Aziza, Chaouni, "Agadir: the coming of age of Morocco’s

post-independence modernism," In O. Elser, P. Kurz, & P. C. Schmal (Eds.), SOS Brutalism: A Global Survey. (Zurich: Park Books, 2017).

21. La Caisse de Dépôt et de Gestion, l’Office National du Chemin de Fer, l’Office National Marocain du Tourisme et Maroc Tourisme. De Maio, F. (2016). Un Rocambole dell’architettura moderna in Africa–Jean Francois Zevaco e il sito termale di Sidi Harazem. In Immaginari de la Modernitá (p. 82). Milan: Mimesis.

22. Desmoulin. Intervista a Jean François Zevaco. (A. Chaouni, Trans.) Abitare, (2001): 402.

23. Lucy Hofbauer, "Fabrique du tourisme et expériences patrimoniales au Maghreb, XIXe-XXIe siècles," Le mouvement moderne marocain à l’épreuve du tourisme (1950-1970). In Isnart, C., Mus-Jelidi, C., & Zytnicki, C. (Eds.), Rabat: Centre Jacques-Berque (pp.4).

24. For a comparison of Zevaco’s work at large with supremacist artists such as El Lissitzky, please refer to: De Maio, F. (2016). Un Rocambole dell’architettura moderna in Africa–Jean Francois Zevaco e il sito termale di Sidi Harazem. In Immaginari de la Modernitá (p. 81). Milan: Mimesis.

25. Mohamed Berriane, "Tourisme national et migrations de loisirs au Maroc," Etude géographique. Publications de la Faculté des Lettres et des Sciences Humaines de Rabat. Série: Thèses et Mémoires, 16 (1992): 158.

26. For more information, please see: Leo, Africanus. A geographical historie of Africa, London, 1600. (Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum,1969).

27. Prosper Ricard, Le Maroc: (les guides bleus). (Paris: Hachette, 1930), p. 350.

28. Idem. p.351

29. Lovelyn Elaine Bickerstaffe, Things seen in Morocco. A land of enchantment, of perpetual contrasts and of absorbing human interest, (London: Seeley Service and Co. Limited, 1929), pp. 122-123

30. Idem. p.122-123

31. "Out of memory – Piscine Sidi Harazem – Maroc," Maurel Architects, 2018, https://diserens-maurel.ch/ out-of-memory-piscine-sidi-haraze/

32. His daughter Dominique and draftsman Jaime Bozaglo.

33. For more information on these two problematic rehabilitations, please refer to: Aziza, Chaouni, "Making Modernism modern, the Failure of Rehabilitation, the thermal bath complex of Sidi Harazem by Zevaco," DOCOMOMO, (2006): 35.

THE KOSOVO NATIONAL LIBRARY

SHAPING NATIONAL IDENTITY WHILE PRESERVING A MODERN ICON

BY BEKIM RAMKU, KOSOVO

THE KOSOVO NATIONAL LIBRARY

Shaping National Identity & Preserving a Modern Icon

1INTRODUCTION

Very few modern buildings can connect a country’s heritage with its multicultural present as expressively as Kosovo’s National Library in Pristina. Reflecting on the region’s diverse heritage and its distinct cultural spirit, Andrija Mutnjaković (b.1929), a Croatian architect, sought to create an architectural piece that could authentically express the ethos of Kosovo when he designed the library in 1971.

The construction of the building started only two years after riots erupted across the region. Formerly known as the Socialist Autonomous Province of Kosovo, the state demanded a university with Albanian as the primary language of instruction. Both the protests and the library’s construction occurred during a period referred to as the Albanian renaissance in Yugoslavia, which saw Kosovo gain more autonomy and receive largescale infrastructure investments from the Socialist Yugoslav Federation.

Constructed with cast-in-place concrete, marble floors, white plastered walls, and topped with seventy-four translucent acrylic domes (fig. 1), the library is reminiscent of Byzantine and Ottoman building typologies. Despite its symbolic historic forms, the Library’s expression is unmistakably modern.

Mutnjaković utilized new materials while evoking ancient architectural tropes. This was done most notably with an exterior aluminum lattice wrapping (fig. 2), which can be interpreted either as a fishnet or a veil; referencing the region’s two predominant religions—Christianity and Islam. Although the reception of the building was mixed when the

Figure 1: An aerial view of the Library showing its seventy-four domes.

library opened in 1982, perceptions have changed. Today the Kosovo National Library in Pristina is regarded as an extraordinary example of late Yugoslav modernism and a beloved public space.

2THE INITIAL ASSESSMENT AND EXPECTED RESULTS

While the Library’s interiors suffered damage during the Kosovo War (1998–1999), its exterior escaped the conflict relatively unscathed. Over the past decade the building has begun to show signs of aging such as water infiltration that required a series of repairs executed between 2000 and 2014. Unfortunately, these ad hoc repairs funded by the Ministry of Culture were led by architects and builders with no prior experience in the conservation of modern architecture.

In 2016 a team of conservation specialists led by the Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF), a nonprofit organization, addressed the lack of knowledge of the building. With the support of the Keeping It Modern (KIM) grant from the Getty Foundation, KAF studied and assessed the building’s design and performance from a heritage restoration perspective. Utilizing historic documents and drawings, the team conducted an analysis of the building—including the structural, electrical, and plumbing systems, as well as its interior and exterior fixtures. They also led a seminal interview with Andrija Mutnjaković in which he clarified his design intentions and related processes.

The conservation and research teams’ outcomes created an unprecedented and comprehensive record of the building’s past and present conditions. This research was subsequently used to develop

Figure 2: Exterior aluminum lattice wrapping on the library's facade.

a Conservation Management Plan (CMP) for the Library. The CMP’s primary function is to guide future programs, investigations, and interventions to rehabilitate the Library. It describes the current condition of the building and assesses any damage— analyzing its severity and causes. CMPs also include value assessments and a statement of significance which guide the development of conservation policies.

Using results from the CMP process, the project team worked to raise awareness for the preservation of twentieth-century architectural heritage through a series of workshops for students and young professionals in the field. They also prepared a nomination dossier for the Library to become instituted as a national cultural site. Today, the Library’s CMP acts as a model for documentation and preservation processes for modern buildings in the region. The CMP was shared with the public through an exhibition and a documentary.

Figure 3: Blueprint of the masterplan by Bashkim Fehmiu.

3

THE CMP TEAM

After being awarded the KIM grant from the Getty Foundation in 2016, the KAF assembled a team of local and international experts in the conservation field. The team was composed of four local architects (Bekim Ramku, Nol Binakaj, Yllka Pacarizi, Feray Dervis), an art and architecture historian (Rudina Voca), three contracted engineers (Skender Shala, Besart Osmanaj, Mentor Kryeziu), a filmmaker (Faton Hasani), a design firm (Project Graphics), a documentation and conservation expert (Rand Eppich), and the project’s original architect Andrija Mutnjaković.

4THE DOCUMENTATION PHASE

Documentation for the Kosovo National Library commenced prior to securing the KIM Grant. The documentation phase was carried out in two stages. The first focussed on collecting existing archival documents—including written publications, audio-visual material, and the initial design concepts from Mutnjaković’s personal archive. The second phase comprised of the creation of an oral history database about the building, featuring an interview with Mutnjaković himself where he explained in full detail his conceptual thinking, which was largely unknown until the interview. The database also included interviews with people involved in the original project such as old employees, maintenance workers, and the Library’s management.

4.1 CONTEXT

Although Albanians were the third largest ethnic group in the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, they did not have a university that offered instruction in their mother tongue in the 1960s. Higher education has existed in Kosovo since 1958, however all universities were tied to the University of Belgrade and all classes were taught in Serbo-Croatian. Demands for greater autonomy and self-governance by Kosovan members of the Communist League grew louder in the sixties— culminating with extensive protests throughout Kosovo in 1968. To appease this socio-political unrest, the Yugoslav Government created the first Albanian speaking university in Pristina. The first faculties established in the newly formed University were engineering, medicine, law, and philosophy. While the creation of the University of Pristina was perceived by the ethnic Albanian community as an important step towards cultural self-determination, it was strongly opposed by Serbian members of the Communist League.

To quickly functionalise the University of Pristina, the Yugoslav Government allocated land and funds to develop a campus composed of teaching facilities, administrative buildings, and dormitories. Bashkim Fehmiu, the first practicing architect and urban designer in Kosovo, was commissioned to draft the masterplan for the new campus (fig. 3). Fehmiu, who earned his architectural engineering diploma in 1958 at the University of Belgrade, was the founder of the Pristina Planning Institute— which later became the most prominent planning institution in Kosovo. When planning of the Pristina Campus, Fehmiu consulted Bogdan Bogdanovic,

and was assisted by Rexhep Luci, Miodrag Pecic, Ranko Radovic, and Dimitrije Mladenovic.

Fehmiu, his team, and a CIAM delegate, proposed a flexible grid that could easily accommodate all the new faculties. Interconnected by long corridors, the faculties were organized around a central square that hosted two feature buildings: an amphitheatre and a library, dubbed the “People’s Library.” Fehmiu envisioned these two buildings as modular structures capable of expanding when needed, which he covered with domes (fig. 4). His translucent domes would allow zenithal light to penetrate the buildings’ mammoth interiors.

In 1970, the city of Sarajevo held a design competition for the “People’s Library”, which would serve both the students of the University and the inhabitants of the city of Pristina at large. A young Croatian architect named Andrija Mutnjaković proposed an interesting concept that was inspired by two key architectural forms commonly found in religious buildings throughout the Balkans—the cube and the dome (fig. 5). Fehmiu managed to convince local leaders and the director of the Kosovo National Library, Ismet Spahiu, to commission the young Croatian architect for the job. When Mutnjaković was awarded first prize in the competition, his design for the library was not well received by the public. However, it received great support from the local architecture community which included Ismet Spahiu and Bashkim Fehmiu.

Kosovo University Library. A young Croatian architect, Andrija Mutnjakovic, proposed an interesting concept that was inspired by architectural features commonly found in these regions religious buildings, the cube and the dome. Fehmiu managed to convince the local leaders as well sa the director of the Kosovo National Library to commission the young Croatia architect for the job as his design fitted well with the overall campus concept Fehmiu developed. Mutnjakovic vas given a project brief and the campus masterplan and was asked to produce the concept design that would follow the guidelines set by Fehmiu’s masterplan. Mutnjakovic’s concept for the library, although not supported by all, received great support from the local architecture community as well as the Library Director Ismet Spahiu and Bashkim Fehmiu. Following is the unedited narrative developed by Mutnjakovic on the concept for the Kosovo National Library.

FIGURE 3 - The Prishtina University Campus Model by Bashkim Fehmiu

Figure 4: The Prishtina University Campus model by Bashkim Fehmiu.

Figure 5: The Library after its completion.

Mutnjaković warned against the dangers of dehumanizing modern architecture and anticipated changes in the future development of architectural theory and practice. He foresaw that future architecture, while still embracing functionalist principles, would take into account additional factors: people, their needs, habits and customs; regional individuality; and historic, religious, and social traditions.

4.2 CONCEPT

The architecture of the "People’s Library" was intended to be a culminating expression of Kosovar identity. As such, its articulation of space and elevations reference traditional building motifs found across the region such as cubes, spheres, and columns. As an active architectural critic, Mutnjaković produced a seminal theoretical framework for the Library’s design, which he organized by themes.1 Based on his text and interview, the following paragraphs describe facets of Mutnjaković’s conceptual approach.

4.2.1 Summary

“The building of the University Library should be the ultimate expression of architectural creativity. The activated terrain, the environment, and the building itself require that the decomposition of the volume, the condensed structure, shapes, light and shadow, and the gradation of the heights evoke the building heritage of these areas (architecture of columns, cubes, and spheres) as a modern structural and shaping concept of an autochthonous shaping style.” 2

Mutnjaković chose a new regional style for the Library as an alternative to the International Style’s universalism. The cubic-spherical motif, common in the traditional architecture of all Kosovar ethnic groups, was chosen as an expression of the genius loci. The dome as an architectural tool also allowed Mutnjaković to optimize lighting inside the Library (fig. 6). The Kosovo National Library’s modern facade is a derivative of the dome’s structural language and is further imbued with regional motifs.

Figure 6: Dome skylights provide daylighting in the library's interior spaces.

4.2.2 Concept

The design and construction of the library originate at a time when contemporary Yugoslav heritage in the region was undergoing a critical assessment. According to Mutnjaković, the contemporary interpretation of regional architectural styles marked an important shift in the path taken by twentieth-century modern architecture. Indeed, as the International Style reached its peak in the 1960s and spread impersonal universal expressions across the globe, it faced a crisis. Mutnjaković warned against the dangers of dehumanizing modern architecture and anticipated changes in the future development of architectural theory and practice. He foresaw that future architecture, while still embracing functionalist principles, would take into account additional factors: people, their needs, habits and customs; regional individuality; and historic, religious, and social traditions.

When Mutnjaković started the design of the Library, this new situated approach towards architecture was already present across the globe. For instance, Alvar Aalto pioneered this approach through his rigorous and personal search for a national Finnish architectural identity. In nearby Denmark, Arne Jacobson investigated similar ideas throughout the 1950s. BBPR (Lodovico Barbiani di Belgioso, Enrico Peressutti, Ernesto N. Rogers) combined regional traditions with modern functionalism in their design work. Japanese architects like Kimio Yokoyama undoubtedly combined national expression with modern functionalism in the most subtle and detailed ways. This is demonstrated by the ShoHondo Temple (1972) designed by Yokoyama, which reinterpreted the architecture of the sixteethcentury Matsumoto castle. The work of Japanese

modern architects, built upon this marriage of old and new styles, has influenced many in the exYugoslav Republic—Mutnjaković included.

In 1970s Yugoslavia, a critical stance towards the International Style led to innovative work that aimed to define an authentic modern national architectural language by architects including Neidhardt, Dobrović, Ravnicar, and the ‘Zemlja’ group (Ibler, Galić, Horvat, Kauzlarić). In fact, in his explanatory text about the Library’s concept Mutnjaković refers to the 'Zemlja' group, whose critical retrospective exhibition for the 1971 Zagreb Salon of Architecture was open while the library was being designed.

4.2.3 Regionalism

The rich diversity of Kosovo’s architecture, with its strong Byzantine and Turkish influences, is evident in both Muslim and Christian buildings, such as the mosques of Sultan Fatah and Sinan Pasha, the Patriarchate of Peć and the Monastery of Graćanica. Mutnjaković notes that despite their difference in construction date, typology, culture, and religion, many historic buildings in Kosovo share a similar spatial archetype: a square space covered by a dome. For Mutnjaković, the symbol of these cubic and spherical spatial configurations has a universal civilizational value which he imbues with a meaning of togetherness in a contemporary perspective. The choice of an architectural motif and spatial organization which is both universally recognizable and regionally specific is the logical underpinning for Mutnjaković’s library, and in his efforts to emancipate Kosovar and Albanian cultures (figs. 7a-c).

4.2.4 Symbol

The Kosovo National Library was designed to be a recognizable symbol expressing the spirit of the region—which at the time meant Yugoslavia as a whole. The building’s sheer scale and its emblematic silhouette (reminiscent of vernacular buildings in the region) differentiate it from the city fabric. Mutnjaković mentioned that symbols were integrated successfully into modern architecture to express cultural specificities in countries such as Finland, Japan, and Mexico. As such, he thought that Yugoslav architects should do the same. In that regard, he mentions the importance of the work of architect Neidhard, who is considered the first Yugoslav architect to acknowledge the importance of Yugoslav regionalism.

4.2.5 Space

The basic cubic-spherical module that constitutes the library serves a phenomenological purpose for Mutnjaković. Indeed, the library is composed of separate volumes of varying sizes rather than a single large hall, as “readers can concentrate better if they are situated in a more intimate space.” 3

This spatial organization, expressed by the aggregation of a geometric module, seems to echo the Suprematist theories of avant-garde Russian artist Kazimir Malević, who advocated for a spiritual experience created by the rhythm of abstract geometrical figures and forms (figs. 8a-b).

Victor Vasarely also influenced Mutnjaković’s work. Departing from Malević’s ideas, Vasarely was the father of the Op-Art Movement—characterized by the synthesis between intellect and intuition along with the hallucinatory impression of movement through geometrical abstraction. A student of

Figure 7a: The Gracanica Monastery, Gracanica, Kosovo.

Bauhaus philosophy and long-time admirer of Malević, Vasarely believed aesthetic principles had social implications and saw his work as building towards a 'Planetary Folklore:' direct, non-exclusive, empirical, and even programmable. He advocated for a visual culture centred in user experience, enabled by technology, and available to all. As such, his work anticipated the principles that define today’s digital methods of image-making and circulation, and by extension, cybernetics. “His work,” says Abraham A. Moles, “although performed by hand, is the very model of the modern calculating machine.”4 Vasarely’s axonometric drawings such as the Kroa MC (1970), are reminiscent of the Library’s massing. At the time of the design of the Library, Mutnjaković was also influenced by the proto-digital art he became familiar with through the New Tendencies movement.

By using the constructive elements as an archetype and an abstract, non-hierarchical spatial organization, Mutnjaković was applying and testing ideas from 1970s art world surrounding him-specifically structuralist and abstract art. However, the architectural critic and writer Maroje Mrduljaš justly notes that the selection of the cubic-spherical form was not the product of research rooted in the aforementioned art movements, but rather a result of Mutnjaković’s intuition and the functional needs of the Library.

4.2.6 Expression

The plan of the Library is based on a square, with the main reading room placed at its center (fig. 9). It develops upwards into an irregular succession of seventy-four cubes covered with domes, with a total floor area of 16,500 m2. Mutnjaković uses

Figure 7b: The Prishtina Grand Mosque, Prishtina, Kosovo.

By using the constructive elements as an archetype and an abstract, nonhierarchical spatial organization, Mutnjakovi ć was applying and testing ideas from 1970’s art world surrounding him— specifically Structuralist and abstract art.

Figure 7c: The Kosovo National Library.

THE CONCEPT

The building of the National and University Library should be a culminating expression of our architecture. its landscaped planning, its environment, and interior demand that the articulation of space, its compact structure, shapes, light and shade, and elevation, should carry associations of the traditional buildings of this region. the motifs of cubes, spheres, and columns represent a contemporary application of the autochthonous architectural inspiration of the people.

Planning and technical aspects of the building of the National and University Library in Prishtina.

Initial drawings for the Library by Andrija Mutnjakovic

Figure 8a: Artwork by Victor Vasarely; Kroa MC, 1970, aluminium anodisé, 50 x 50 x 50 cm. Private collection.

Figure 8b: An initial sketch for the Kosovo National Library by Andrija Mutnjaković.

“the formulation of the function of the form and connects it with the active role of the symbol.”5 The expression of architecture is not neutral in its meaning, but projects the symbolic role of the institution.

4.2.7 Cupola

The heart of the library holds the central hall that is partially used as a reading room. It is composed of a cubic space covered by a cupola with no windows facing the outside (figs. 10a- b). The shape and the layout of the main reading room are driven by the physical and psychological needs of the users who aspire to quiet, introverted spaces with diffuse lighting to read, study, and research. A cube covered with a translucent plastic cupola which allows light to evenly pour in is Mutnjaković’s answer to these needs. All of the library’s remaining reading rooms have similar translucent cupolas covering them, except for those located on the periphery—which also have large windows. Homogeneous lighting has been achieved in other important buildings through the use of cupolas or domes, such as the Library of Congress in Washington DC, the National Library in Paris, the British Museum Reading Room in London, and also in modern libraries such as the Keil and Dublin University libraries. For the construction of the Library’s cupolas, Mutnjaković wanted to use the most advanced construction

available at the time—a reference to R. Buckminster Fuller’s work.

4.2.8 Façade

The Library’s façades were intended to improve the internal lighting of the reading rooms while providing privacy and protection from the hot summer sun. To do so, Mutnjaković laced the entire building with a brise-soleil system composed of cast aluminium mesh adorned with hexagonal patterns. Mutnjaković explained that a similar effect was achieved in historic buildings in the region such as the Patriarchate of Peć or the Painted Mosque of Tetovo.

"His work... although performed by hand, is the very model of the modern calculating machine."

4

ABRAHAM A. MOLES

1 stairs and elevator

2 distributions

3 book stocks

4 rest area

5 workshop

6 electric substation

7 generator 8 air conditioning

9 co2 station

10 phone center

11 head or workshop

12 technical entrance

1 stairs and elevator

2 central hall

3 distributions

4 grand students reading hall

5 small students reading hall

6 central catalog

7 head of reading halls

c_first floor plan

Figure 9 (a-d): Floor plans of the Kosovo National Library, Preliminary Design Concept Brief, Andrija Mutnjakovic.

b_ground floor plan

4.2.9 Function

The Library is organized around a central doubleheight atrium (fig. 11) (with access to the main reading room) surrounded by the catalogue rooms, access to two floors of book stacks (located in the cellar and basement floors), various reading rooms, rest areas, large and small lecture halls, and an exhibition hall. The reading rooms are distributed on different floors according to their size and importance. The small reading room (for one-hundred users) and the large reading room (for two-hundred users) are placed on the first and second floors respectively. On the second floor, there are reading rooms dedicated to specific topics: history, rare books, geography, graphic arts, music, films & microfilm, and periodicals. On the third and fourth floors – the quietest part of the library – there are carrels for researchers. On the ground floor with immediate access from the street, there is the Braille reading room. All reading rooms are connected to the catalogue room and the stacks. There are two circulation systems: elevator belts for the internal distribution of books, as well as elevators and staircases for the staff and public. The stacks are placed in two basements—partly for safety reasons (in case of natural catastrophe or war), and also for the low-cost creation of an appropriate environment for the storage of books due to natural insulation from temperature peaks provided by the subterranean environment.

Figure 10a: The main reading room immediately after construction.

The technical auxiliary equipment is mainly located on the ground floor and partly underground. Staff offices are on the ground floor. Other public and service spaces are also located on the ground floor such as the main entrance, staff entrance, service entrance, and rest areas. The administrative offices are situated on the first floor and have a separate dedicated entrance and two direct connections to the catalogue rooms. The offices are also connected to all of the reading rooms and the stacks by a staircase.

5PHYSICAL ASSESSMENT

During the second phase of the project’s implementation, the KAF team led by documentation expert Mr. Rand Eppich, conducted a weeklong condition assessment workshop, with help from Pristina University students and young architects. The thorough assessment resulting from the workshop formed the base for further research.

The workshop found that, overall, the library is in good condition. However, numerous problems must be addressed in the short-term. These problems are expected in such an avant-garde building designed in the 1970s, built in the 1980s, which experienced a lack of maintenance due to the 1998-99 war and the economic depression that followed.

Figure 10b: The current condition of the main reading room.

5.1 STRUCTURE

The building is sound with no structural failures, differential settlement, deformations, or cracks despite its significant cantilevers. The primary construction material—reinforced concrete—is in good condition except for the concrete covering the steel reinforcement at the exterior corners, and in fragile areas that suffered from prolonged water infiltration or plumbing leakages. At the exterior corners of the building, exposed steel reinforcement suffers from oxidization. This is due to an oversight that occurred during construction where the amount of concrete poured inside the formwork to cover the rebar at the corners of the volumes was insufficient. This mistake caused the spalling of the concrete, exposing the rebar to water infiltration and the freeze-thaw cycle. While not serious, spalling should be addressed because it will certainly lead to structural problems in the future.

5.2 MOISTURE INFILTRATION

The Library drainage and roofing systems are in poor, dysfunctional condition. While the initial details and materials of the roof were adequately designed, the roof is far past its performance lifetime. Even though there have been numerous localized repairs over the years, including a replacement of the metal flashing, water infiltration problems persist because the roof must be addressed as a whole system. A complete redesign of the roofing membrane, waterproofing, flashing, insulation, slope, and drainage pipes must be conducted. The current drainage system of cast iron pipes used to evacuate storm-water from the roof towards the sewage, has broken joints in

nearly sixty-four locations. The roof is failing along its major expansion joint which runs vertically and horizontally through the entire building from North to South. Also, the roof surfaces are insufficiently sloped, with no backup water drainage and no water control from the scuppers between levels. The KAF team also noticed water infiltration in the basement, cellar, and mechanical levels. This is a serious matter as the Library’s two underground levels contain book stacks—including the rare book section. Water infiltration in these lower levels is suspected to be caused by the failure of the waterproofing membrane on the facades of the building, the poor drainage of the plaza, and a high water table. Before the construction of the Library, there was a natural stream flowing across the site. The building had a security gap protecting the exterior walls of the subterranean levels but it has failed and is now filled with water.

The skylight domes do not seem to be a source of water infiltration as they were replaced approximately ten years ago, including their translucent plastic panels and cast aluminium structure. The new domes have adequate flashing and do not appear to be causing any major problems. However, the skylights over the vertical chases are not secure and several are broken, allowing direct ingress of rainwater into the lower levels.

5.3 PLUMBING

This is the second major concern for the building; the public toilets on most levels are not up to current standards. On the ground floor, most toilets are broken, and in the administrative zone, they are not adequately functioning. Hot water is not available on the upper floors of the building yearround because the supply pipes were left unused for many years, leading to significant corrosion.

5.4 INTEGRITY / AUTHENTICITY

The Library’s furnishing, finishes, and spatial organization are largely intact. In Kosovo, it is rare for a 1980s building not to undergo significant alterations. Despite its unusual state of conservation, the Library has, however, experienced some changes.

The most dramatic intervention to the Library is the transformation of the former checkroom and wardrobe, located on the ground floor near the entrance, into the 'American Corner' Library. This space was altered with new aluminium doors, finishes, and furniture. Currently, there are additional plans to further transform this space.

The second most significant change in the Library’s original design is the interventions on the fourth floor which occurred in 2001 when a private telecommunications company leased it. The modifications included the addition of two mezzanines and new partitions for the creation of a kitchen, cubicles, and office spaces—leading to the original materials and windows being covered with gypsum board (fig. 12a), which significantly reduced the amount of natural light. Similarly, laminate wood and epoxy flooring were added on

These problems are expected in such an avant-garde building designed in the 1970s, built in the 1980s, which experienced a lack of maintenance due to the 1998-99 war and the economic depression that followed.

Figure 11: The central double height atrium.

top of the original floor materials (local stone and carpet) and glass blocks were used for new walls (fig. 12b). Also, the original furniture was replaced. The new kitchen and common space were housed in the two new mezzanines, which disfigured the fourth floor. These mezzanines do not comply with the current building codes as they do not have safety guardrails (fig. 12c). The aesthetics of the changes made to the fourth floor are not consistent with the building’s original concept design—leaving the altered zone’s appearance as incongruent with the rest of the building (fig. 12d). These new interventions are considered to be out of context and disrespectful to the overall spirit of the Library.

Overall, the changes caused by the creation of the “American Corner” and the new fourth floor office space could easily be removed. The overall integrity of the library as a whole has not been compromised. The CMP team recommended that these additions be kept as a testimony to the Library’s changing political context, yet it recommended that they undergo repairs and adjustments.

Figure 12a: Alterations covering original windows, blocking daylight.

5.5 LIGHTING

At night, the light quality and intensity within the reading rooms is inadequate. The current light intensity ranges between 11 - 50 lux while the minimum standard for reading is between 250 –400 lux. The majority of the original light fixtures are not working: many have missing light bulbs and diffusion covers. Some of the original fixtures have been replaced at the fourth floor and the café bar. The lighting fixtures on the exterior have reached the end of their lifetime. Given their prolonged exposure to the elements their state of disrepair is understandable. These fixtures must be replaced with similar ones as there are many dark areas outside the Library—increasing concerns around safety and crime. The KAF team noticed that the electricity bills were quite high and hence more energy-efficient lighting solutions should be investigated.

5.6 SITE

Drainage on the site is not appropriately managed. The drains around the Library are blocked by trash, which could cause water to infiltrate the building. The site is located at the center of the University of Pristina campus, along a major pedestrian path. However, there are many loose stones on the pavement around the Library that could cause harm. Parking is uncontrolled at the Southeast corner of the site and accessible paths towards the library are not up to code, and must be improved.

4.7 SECURITY

Inside the Library, theft is a recurring problem because the interior spaces can be easily accessed by climbing the aluminium façade, or through the ventilation shafts which lead to the rare books section of the archives.

Another noted problem is the fire alarm and the fire suppression systems. Although individual fire extinguishers are regularly checked, the automatic fire suppression system and the smoke detectors do not function properly. Exit signs throughout the public areas as well as the administrative spaces are missing.

Among the seven major categories of problems identified in the assessment phase, four required immediate measures: moisture infiltration, plumbing, lighting, and furniture. The KAF team decided to further assess these four aforementioned issues and develop detailed solutions in collaboration with hydro-electrical engineers.

6

THE CMP RESULTS AND THE FUTURE OF KOSOVO’S NATIONAL LIBRARY

The results and outcome of the CMP, comprised of over two-thousand pages of archival documents, two documentaries, over one-hundred redrawn plans, and a publication with over eighteen appendices, was successful in several regards:

6.1 PROJECT PROMOTION

Through the Kosovo Architecture Foundation’s media channels, the CMP team was very successful in promoting the project and Getty’s KIM Grant. The project team had more than ten TV and radio interviews, and more than thirty newspapers, magazines, and online news outlets reported on the project. Coinciding with the project’s implementation, the Library was featured in the seminal Museum of Modern Art exhibition on Yugoslav modernism titled Concrete Utopia. This further promoted the CMP and the Library building to the general public and to decision-makers.

6.2 INFORMING REGIONAL PARTNERS

The team informed its regional colleagues of the KIM grant and assisted them in their applications, based on the knowledge gained working on the Library CMP. Our assistance bore its fruits as the Sarajevo Museum supported by the NGO Cultural Heritage without Borders became a 2018 grantee.

6.3 CHANGING MINDSETS

With the support of the Getty team, the CMP team convinced the Library’s management of the importance of the original furniture and the role it played in safeguarding the authenticity of the building. They have now cancelled their original plan to change the original pieces of furniture with contemporary ones.

The Kosovo Ministry of Culture endorsed the CMP as the guiding document for future conservation and infrastructure works on the building.

Figure 12b: Inappropriate materials such as glass block walls.

Figure 12c: Unsafe guardrails at mezzanine level.

During the last phase of the CMP, the project team delivered a comprehensive document to the Kosovo Council on Cultural Heritage, asking for the Library building to be placed on the permanent list of cultural heritage sites protected by the state. Unfortunately designating the Kosovo National Library in the permanent list is still a pending matter.

Future challenges the Kosovo National Library will face are mainly political. Unfortunately, in such a young country, the political and administrative ’memory’ is very short. Apart from advocating and securing funds for the conservation of the building, KAF, together with the DOCOMOMO Kosovo Chapter, will serve as the Library’s watchdogs until its designation on the permanent heritage list.

ENDNOTES

1. Andrija Mutnjaković, interviewed by Saša Šimpraga, May 22,2014, transcript, Pogledaj, accesed from http:// pogledaj.to/arhitektura/kuca-koja-nema-ideju-nije-kuca/.

2. Andrija Mutnjaković, (2019). Appendix B - Preliminary Design Concept Brief of KNL CMP, Idejni Projekt Narodna i Univerzitetska Biblioteka Kosova (1972), 6.

3. Oris Magazine. “The Library in Priština.” Oris. Accessed 2020. whttp://www.oris.hr/en/oris-magazine/overviewof-articles/[218]the-library-in-pristina,3660.html.

4. Victor Vasarely, & Abraham A. Moles. Vasarely. (Paris: Galerie Denise René, 1966).

5. Maroje Mrduljaš, “The Library of Pristina,” Oris 99 (2016): 134.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1. The Kosovo National Library Conservation Management Plan, KAF, Prishtina 2018

2. The Kosovo National Library Concept Design, Andrija Mutnjaković, Zagreb 1972.

3. The Kosovo Library, Oris Magazine #99, Zagreb 2016 Mutnjaković, Zagreb 1972.

4. The Kosovo Library, Oris Magazine #99, Zagreb 2016.

THE METU FACULTY OF ARCHITECTURE

CONSERVATION BY RAISING AWARENESS

BY AYŞEN SAVAŞ, TURKEY

THE METU FACULTY OF ARCHITECTURE

Conservation by Raising Awareness

Figure 1a: An aerial view of the METU Faculty of Architecture.

The Faculty of Architecture at the Middle East Technical University (METU) is one of the most important success stories in Turkey’s Modern Movement. The architecture, landscape, and social tenets of the building illustrate a balance between the principals of modern architecture and the cultural, political, and economic contexts1 in Turkey at the time.

Designed by the architects Behruz and Altuğ Çinici and completed in 1962, the METU Faculty of Architecture is composed of three main sections: the museum (originally designed as a library), the auditorium, and the main education building. The young architect couple, who had an Istanbul based office at that time, proved over the years that they were equipped to cope with this great challenge. The building—which is still a school of architecture—has been well preserved for the last sixty years. However, the existence of the building is under threat. Turkey’s current zeitgeist promotes populist eclectic styles, threatening the future of modern buildings, the METU Architecture Faculty building included. In order to protect the building, a conservation management plan (CMP) process was launched in 2017. The CMP process included archival and technical research by professors at the METU faculty (part of the CMP team), as well as a campaign promoting the building’s significance. This campaign became the core of the CMP, showcasing all its phases and its documentation phase.

In order to support the development of the CMP, an interdisciplinary graduate studio was established in 2013 to investigate the building’s archival documents.2 'Conservation by Documentation' was the conservation team’s motto as they worked to

Figure 1b: Program axonometric illustrating the METU Buildings.

Figure 2a: A plan of the METU Faculty.

establish a comprehensive operational archive within the building itself. With the invaluable support of the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern grant in 2017, a CMP full process was launched— guiding the development of long-term maintenance and conservation policies for the METU Faculty of Architecture building complex. The CMP team began by conducting a thorough investigation of the complex’s physical condition, a material analysis, and evidence-based research on its social and cultural significance. Methodologies developed for the Architecture Faculty building are scalable, designed to be replicated for other modernist buildings on the METU campus. The ultimate goals for the CMP are to spread and institutionalize conservation practices across the entire site.

The CMP is the product of collaborative research work by a team of architects, engineers, stakeholders, specialists, and conservation planners. This multidisciplinary conservation team grouped together experts already instructing and researching on the METU campus. The core group was mainly composed of architects, with expertise in museology, building performance, 3D modeling,

and software development. Graduate students supported the team through all of the CMP’s phases by leading group or individual research projects.

Building a comprehensive archive during the CMP’s research phase required a system that could support the incremental gathering of information, and allow for its storage and retrieval. The team developed a Heritage Building Information Modeling (HBIM) model. The HBIM leverages the existing capabilities of BIM (Building Information Modeling), and supplements them with domain-specific diverse information including: existing building documentation, site surveys, legal documents, building codes, oral histories, interviews, etc. the HBIM model is a virtual replica of the building that evolves in time.” 3

In retrospect—the tools developed to raise awareness of the building’s significance have proven essential to safeguarding the METU Faculty of Architecture and implementing its CMP. Therefore, this paper will primarily focus on the development and application of these strategies.

Figure 2b: Altuğ, Behruz Çinici, Section of the METU buildings, 1962.

Behruz and Altu ğ

Çinici’s employment of exposed concrete at the scale of an entire building complex and its structural systems was unprecedented in Turkey.

1DESCRIPTION OF THE BUILDING

The METU Faculty of Architecture building is composed of quasi-autonomous units connected by circulation elements and landscape. The architectural program of the building is distributed into clearly identified volumes expressed with cubic masses (figs. 1a, 1b). At first glance, the Faculty’s fragmented massing coupled with its location on a sloped site makes it difficult to read it as a single entity (figs. 2a, 2b). However, the use of exposed materials and meticulous detailing contribute to the building’s perception as a coherent whole; concrete, wood, brick walls and slabs, as well as natural stone and marble floor finishes contribute to a unified aesthetic. The Faculty also features characteristic flat roof surfaces perforated with skylights, large glazed surfaces, and concrete scuppers projecting from parapets. Its 'open plan' is supported by uninterrupted circulation and the provision of physical and phenomenal transparencies. Many features of the building count among the earliest and most innovative examples of modern architecture in Turkey and its surrounding region. For instance, the campus setting is the first site in Turkey to consider CIAM’s planning principles.

2SIGNIFICANCE OF THE BUILDING

During the late 1950s the METU project campus was anticipated to become a 'model' for architecture and urban planning throughout the Middle East. Today it is considered one of the most outstanding examples of modern architecture in the region. The Faculty of Architecture was established as an intellectual center, designed to support the country through the rapid urban development of its cities. Graduates from METU would become the decision-makers and leaders of a “new Turkish society”. These initial aspirations remain true; today many alumni have driven the urbanization and industrialization of Turkey. METU graduates have also founded the first architectural corporations, privatized architecture schools, and institutional art galleries in the country. In addition to the building’s spatial and material qualities, and its stylistic adherence to the Modern Movement, the social values crafted and disseminated by the METU Faculty of Architecture have contributed to its prominence. For example, one of the institutional accomplishments by METU was the forestation of a fourty-five hectare barren landscape with endemic species and an additional artificial pond (figs. 3a, 3b). The University’s administration has prioritized sustaining the project’s flora and fauna while its academic community has spearheaded the preservation of modern buildings and planning principles.

The Faculty of Architecture building is also significant for the retention of its original program as a school of architecture. Today, the METU Faculty of Architecture is considered one of the best architecture schools in Turkey—producing graduates who have become prominent architects and architectural educators.

Figure 3b: An aerial view of the METU campus.

Figure 3a: The METU site prior to the campus' construction.

Figures 5a, 5b, 5c: Built-in furniture.

Figure 4: The METU Faculty of Architecture as a "learning laboratory."

"Today, the METU Faculty of Architecture is considered one of the best architecture schools in Turkey, producing graduates who have become wellknown architects and architectural educators."

In the early 1960s, the construction site of the Faculty of Architecture was conceived as a learning laboratory and workshop for Turkey’s ‘new architecture’ (fig. 4). The building exhibits rich material combinations, including; concrete, natural stone, brick, and wood. The quality of the building’s detailing and construction processes have resulted in the preservation of these materials. Behruz and Altuğ Çinici’s employment of exposed concrete at the scale of an entire building complex and its structural systems was unprecedented in Turkey. The building itself acts as a research laboratory for high-quality architecture and experimental uses of concrete and plexiglass. The mechanical and electrical equipment used for the METU Faculty of architecture is also unique as it is experimental and, functioning as part of the centralized infrastructural system.

At last, a series of artworks, built-in furniture, and murals that embody the values of the complex and bind it to its context (figs. 5a-5c). Local artists and sculptors transformed the Faculty’s otherwise ‘selfreferential’ concrete volumes into situated spaces.

3THREATS FACING THE METU FACULTY OF ARCHITECTURE COMPLEX

Although some of the problems faced by the Faculty of Architecture building are shared by other early twentieth-century modern buildings, it faces some particular hurdles. For instance, Faculty of Architecture’s daily users comprise of 2,000 students, teaching staff and support services staff. With the number of students is increasing annually— the building’s capacity is stretched. Ankara’s harsh climate also poses challenges. Characterized by drastic temperature changes both daily and annually, the climate changes have direct effects on building materials and structural elements. New building codes, user comfort needs, and ICT technologies demand infrastructural improvements. These factors combined with the lack of a skilled maintenance team create conditions wherein poor workmanship diminishes the building’s architectural value. Also, the roots of wild trees growing in the courtyards (fig. 6) and the unregulated irrigation and humidity generated by the interior and exterior decorative pools form a rather unconventional list of threats against the building. Another notable threat is a new campus policy promoting sustainability upgrades initiated by several of the University’s departments without a clear study of how these changes may impact the original modernist architecture.

Most importantly, the rapid growth of the city including new highways, underground transportation systems, and new urban programs such as mixed-use buildings and shopping malls, is threatening the integrity of the campus and the Faculty building complex. Twentieth-century architecture is not of particular interest to the

Figure 6: Tree roots growing in the METU Faculty courtyard.

Turkish authorities and the building faces a considerable risk of being altered (fig. 7).

4

CMP METHODOLOGY

Conservation is a value-based process. Establishing the significance of the METU Faculty of Architecture Building began with an assessment of its material and cultural values by an interdisciplinary research team of architects, engineers, social scientists, historians, conservation experts, technicians and managers of the academic institution at large. Prior to the commencement of the research process, no guiding documents existed to outline the conservation and management of the Faculty’s significant values.4 The planning and research activities used to build the conservation plan comprised three conventional phases that

were simultaneously executed; ‘understand the place’, ‘assess cultural significance’, and ‘develop policy.’

‘Understanding the place’ was divided into four modules; (1) elicit cultural and spatial values, (2) undergo a structural assessment, (3) conduct a material assessment, and (4) complete an environmental performance assessment. Rather than challenging standard conservation planning methods, a pilot study using novel methodologies was conducted in parallel to conventional activities. The pilot study included photographic documentation and verbal descriptions of the Faculty’s interior and exterior spaces, 3D laserscanning, oral history recollection with the staff and alumni, and non-destructive structural and material testing procedures. Several initiatives further diverged from traditional conservation methods;

Figure 7: Socio-political and Infrastructural threats, the border line of the rapidly growing city and the METU Forest.

the development of a Heritage Building Information Model (HBIM), environmental assessment, events with stakeholders, national and international exhibitions, symposia, and dissemination activities. All tasks pertaining to the conservation management plan have been conducted in parallel to the ongoing daily maintenance activities. The introduction of HBIM as an effective and practical visualization medium helped allowed the CMP team to make complex data more accessible, comprehensible, and useful (fig. 8). Through the HBIM model personal histories, historical narrations, memoirs, legal documents, building codes, user requirements, the architect’s dreams, etc. could overlap with quantitative information.

When the research group at the METU Faculty of Architecture submitted their project proposal to the Getty Foundation in 2017, the policy statement

was very clear. The research team understood the implications of the political conditions in the country coupled with threats to the building caused by rapid urban growth and infrastructural development. In response, two emergency strategies were identified for the conservation of the building: ‘conservation by documentation’ and ‘creating international awareness.’ The former is usually one of the major requirements of a conventional conservation plan. However, in this case, the documentation process directly supported the conservation of the building by creating a record of its existence.

Figure 8: Different visualization modes of the HBIM model for the METU Faculty.

5

TOOLS FOR AWARENESS

Although the METU Forest is listed as a 'National Forest Protection Area' the Faculty of Architecture building and campus are not included in Turkey’s National Heritage Lists, a predicament that has overshadowed the entire conservation process. Given the government’s preference for pre-twentieth century heritage, it is unlikely that they will support METU’s international heritage conservation listing in the near future. Within this context, the necessity for an unusual conservation planning methodology became evident. The research team began a wide dissemination project titled “international awareness.”

As part of the conservation planning activities, the CMP team collaborated with several local NGOs; SALT Institute in Istanbul, Chamber of Architects in Ankara, and the Goethe Institute in Turkey. These relationships led to a series of symposia, exhibitions, competitions, alumni events, and oral history workshops organized by the CMP team. All of the publications (books, articles, graduate theses, exhibition catalogues) were produced in English to reach an international audience. A project website has also been active since October 2018.5 Moreover, in 2017 the building was included in the SOS Brutalism exhibition and its catalogue titled SOS Brutalism: A Global Survey. It was also part of the Greek Pavilion at the Venice Architecture Biennale. The Faculty’s CMP was presented at the 2019 DOCOMOMO conference in Berlin, the KIMMHUP workshop in Sidi Harazem,6

Figure 9b: Panel at TU Delft exhibition.

and the CAMPUS Panel/ Exhibition at TUDelft (figs. 9a, 9b). The research team also initiated a series of local activities including the social media project #HugtheFaculty, an alumni day exhibition, as well as a website and bulletin wall for the Keeping It Modern project.

Without a doubt, the most important support came from the Getty Foundation’s Keeping It Modern (KIM) grant, which not only laid the groundwork for the documentation process, but also amplified it through an international platform. The award listed the Faculty of Architecture Building within a series of world-renowned architectural masterpieces. The KIM grant itself was supported international awareness, paving the way for our efforts to be amplified across different events and organizations.

Courses offered at METU and graduate thesis work were the project’s second driving factor. One of the courses titled Different Modes of Architectural Representation produced a series of exhibitions— one of which was titled Representing Itself, focusing specifically on the Faculty building (figs. 10a, 10b). Students’ work compiling documents created the project’s foundational knowledge—used to build an understanding of the architectural, material, and cultural significance of the site.

Figure 9a: METU Campus Documented Exhibition, TU Delft, May 2019.

Figures 10a: METU Faculty of Architecture "Representing Itself" Exhibition, February 2019.

Documentation work and collected artefacts were exhibited abroad, eventually leading to the establishment of a permanent archive within the Faculty building itself. Two international exhibitions in particular contributed to building international awareness of the Faculty building. The first was the SOS Brutalism exhibition at Deutsches Architekturmuseum (DAM) in 2017, which showcased over 1,000 Brutalist buildings. Then, the Faculty building was included in the The School of Athens exhibition for the Greek Pavilion at the Venice Biennale in 2018. In the Greek Pavilion exhibition, the METU Faculty of Architecture was represented alongside iconic architecture institutions such as Bauhaus Dessau, MIT, and the Harvard Graduate School of Design. This presented the pedagogical relationships between Bauhaus Dessau and the METU Faculty of Architecture to an international audience.

Publications and papers presented at international conferences were also key to spreading awareness. In particular, the 100 Years of the Bauhaus project at the Goethe Institute initiated a symposium titled First-Year Basic Design Education at METU, organized by the first-year cohort and studio instructors at the METU Department of Architecture studio in November 2018. The symposium was developed as an open platform to discuss firstyear architectural education and the variety of approaches taken throughout the Faculty’s history. Participants shared pedagogical materials as a contribution to the new METU Faculty archive project. In turn, several panels on first-year education in Turkey’s major architecture schools were organized by SALT, an arts institution in Istanbul. The panels’ outcomes were published in

the online journal Bauhaus Imaginista. 7 The HBIM technique developed during the CMP process at the METU Faculty of Architecture was presented in the 3rd Reuse of Modern Buildings (RMB) and 16th DOCOMOMO conference titled 100 years of Bauhaus. 8 The relationships established during these events marked the beginning of a continuous research partnership between the METU Faculty of Architecture and the Technical University of Delft in the Netherlands.

It is important to note that the participants at these events were mainly architects. In March 2018, a travelling exhibition organized by SALT Istanbul helped to expand the project’s outreach. The Commissioners Exhibition included details of the architect-client relations which shaped the construction of the METU Faculty of Architecture building, attracting architects and non-architects alike. The venues for the exhibition were contemporary art centres, attracting wider audiences.

After the success of the METU Faculty of Architecture’s HBIM model, a full campus version is developed with the involvement of engineers and university staff. The whole-campus model promoted awareness of twentieth-century campus buildings across Turkey through the inclusion of audio-visual archival material related to the whole Campus’ pedagogical and social history. The main objective of this project was to create a website to facilitate various forms of access to this archival material. The shared database could then become an interactive tool for wider audiences, disseminating information on the METU Faculty of Architecture and its significance. Various exhibitions and workshops about the Faculty of Architecture

Building were organized in collaboration with wellknown photographers, film producers, and modelmakers throughout the country. The exhibits not only allowed students to understand the building from a multidisciplinary perspective, but also disseminate various media (photographs, films, and models) through web galleries and art databases.

The last group of activities focused on raising awareness amongst the alumni community and increasing the involvement of various stakeholders.

Starting in 2018, every ‘alumni day’ has included a wall in the faculty building showcasing an interactive exhibition, intended to involve graduates as stakeholders. On alumni day, the research team also organizes a model-building workshop. Each team produces a model illustrating a section of the

Figure 10b: METU Faculty of Architecture "Representing Itself" Exhibition, February 2019.

The shared database could then become an interactive tool for wider audiences, disseminating information on the METU Faculty of Architecture and its significance.

METU building. Altogether, they form a completed puzzle. The goal is to encourage participants to remember the unique spaces they occupied throughout their education. Although the puzzle exercise seems simple at first, the activity soon reveals the difficulty of building a cohesive whole due to the building’s varied tectonic language and the rule-based relationships between different massing elements. The process of reassembling parts of the building both reinforces communitybuilding with alumni, and leads to important discussions on the architectural significance of the building (figs. 11a-11c).

In order to increase stakeholder interactions with the building, a series of “oral history workshops” were organized to collect information of alumnus’ “spatial memories” of the building. Graduates were asked to narrate stories related to spaces which hold personal significance. Responses included

memories of social events in the building in addition to final reviews and courses. Traditional balls, parties, performances, student protests, and even marriage proposals were narrated. These stories constitute important historical data, leading to an understanding of the architectural and social significance of particular locations within the building. Based on these experiences, the research team initiated a new project titled #HugtheFaculty. After ‘alumni day,’ all visitors, graduates, students, and staff were asked to “go and hug an architectural element” of the building that they liked most and justify their choice in 120 characters. Today, hundreds of photographs with cheerful faces hugging exposed concrete columns, walls, furniture, and artwork in the building can be seen across the internet (Figs. 12a-12c).

Figures 11a, 11b, 11c: Puzzle Workshop, conducted by Bengisu Derebaşı.

CONCLUSION

Amid all the methods used to raise awareness of the METU Faculty of Architecture building (exhibitions, presentations, public events), the HBIM system developed by the research team became the most successful method in academic and professional networks. The introduction of HBIM as an effective and practical visualization medium helped the team make complex data more accessible, comprehensible, and useful. As such, institutional histories, personal and collective memories, visual and textual documents, architects’ original intentions, etc. overlapped with quantitative information. Semantic data complements geometric data through HBIM. The HBIM model is considered a virtual replica of the building that evolves through time. However, one should not dismiss other awareness initiatives based on their long-term impacts for the METU Faculty of Architecture building.

Figure 12a: #HugtheFaculty image from students and users of the Faculty.

Figure 12b: #HugtheFaculty image from students and users of the Faculty.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ENDNOTES

Among the researchers involved in this project, I would like to mention the valuable contributions of İ.Gürsel Dino, Ş.Akın, S.Sarıca, S. İnan, and B.Derebaşı. This chapter is based on the report titled Research And Conservation Planning For The METU Faculty Of Architecture Building Complex by Altuğ-Behruz Çınıcı (Ankara, Turkey) that was submitted to the Getty Foundation in 2018.

1. Güven Arif Sargın & Ayşen Savaş. "A University is a society: An environmental history of the METU ‘campus," The Journal of Architecture, 18(1), (2013): 79-106. (re-printed in Journal of Architecture first anniversary anthology in 2016).

2. Ayşen Savaş & Agnes Van der Meij. Diamonds in Sahara: METU lodgings documented. (METU Press, 2018).

3. The model was developed by the research team led by Sahin Akın under the supervision of Ayşen Savaş and Ipek Gürsel Dino.

4. Previously, this research item has partially been addressed through three books that were published by the Faculty of Architecture. The first book, METU Documented by Ayşen Savaş (1999), aims to catalogue the photographs of the events, individuals, architecture and ideals in order to develop a better and informed vision of the academic landscape of METU. The second book titled The History of the METU Faculty of Architecture collects the written, visual and verbal documents from the period of 1965-1966, towards the organization of the individuals, units and groups in documentation and archival initiatives. Finally, the book titled Anılar (Memories) edited by Sevgi Aktüre, Sevin Osmay and Ayşen Savaş. (2007), aims to document the oral history gather through the focus groups to understand and archive the 50 years of history of the Faculty of Architecture.

5. Ayşen Savaş. "About Us | Keeping It Modern METU Project," November 21, 2018, https://kimproject.arch.metu.edu.tr/

6. Keeping It Modern: Modern Heritage Under Pressure, a workshop led by Aziza Chaouni with the contribution of Silvio Oksman.

7. "For the Faculty of Architecture at METU-Bauhaus was a Promise," Bauhaus Imaginista, 4. (2019): http://www.bauhaus-imaginista.org/articles/5089/ for-the-faculty-of-architecture-at-metu

8. Ayşen Savaş & İpek Dino Gürsel. "Constituting an Archive: Documentation as a Tool for the Preservation of the METU Faculty of Architecture," DOCOMOMO, (2019).

Figure 12c: #HugtheFaculty image from students and users of the Faculty.

THE GANDHI BHAWAN

ASSESSING MODERN HERITAGE SIGNIFICANCE AND DEVELOPING CONSERVATION POLICIES

BY SHIKHA JAIN, INDIA

THE GANDHI BHAWAN

Assessing Modern Heritage Significance and Developing Conservation Policies

“Gandhi Bhawan is a testimony to the culmination of modernism as an aesthetic, historic, and inter-cultural movement in India. It exemplifies the expression of Gandhian ideals through Pierre Jeanneret’s interpretation of a modern institutional building in a newly democratic nation. Its conservation seeks not only to address its cultural, historic and aesthetic significance but also to serve as a resource for future conservation discourse for modern heritage in India, integrating new technologies and approaches with established protocols and standards.”

1INTRODUCTION

In 1960, the Gandhi National Memorial Trust (Gandhi Smarak Nidhi) approached the University Grants Commission of India to propose the establishment of a centre at each university dedicated to the study of Mahatma Gandhi’s work, known as a ‘Gandhi Bhawan.’ At Panjab University the Gandhi Smarak Nidhi alongside the University Grants Commission and the Panjab Government contributed a sum of 100,000 rupees (around 1,323 USD) each for the construction of a Gandhi Bhawan building.

The University decided to build its Gandhi Bhawan at a central location on campus due to Mahatma Gandhi’s historic, social, and political significance. Its proposed location is in close proximity with various teaching departments and the University’s main library. The building was planned by the University’s chief architect B.P. Mathur and designed by the Swiss-born French architect Pierre Jeanneret. The Gandhi Bhawan was constructed under the supervision of Panjab University’s chief

engineer Agya Ram Kumar. The Gandhi Bhawan building was completed in 1962, immediately becoming an iconic landmark on campus.

Jeanneret’s Gandhi Bhawan was designed to serve as an institution for disseminating Gandhian ideology, to encourage scholarship on the subject, and to memorialize Gandhi himself. Today, the building is still used regularly—particularly its library and lecture hall. As an iconic landmark in the city, the Gandhi Bhawan has been recognized as as a Grade I Heritage building within the Chandigarh Master Plan. Per its categorization, any major interventions to the building’s interior or exterior require approval by the Special Heritage Committee of Chandigarh.

Figure 1a: Plan and sectional elevation of Gandhi Bhawan.

The Getty Foundation awarded its Keeping It Modern grant to Panjab University in 2015 to facilitate conservation planning for the Gandhi Bhawan. Through a series of preparatory meetings, two consulting organizations worked with Panjab University to kick off the initiative; DRONAH (Development and Research Organisation for Nature, Arts and Heritage) and IIT Madras (Indian Institute of Technology) helped to launch the project in September 2015 under the following phases:

1. Documentation, research and establishing the Gandhi Bhawan’s significance. Assessing the Gandhi Bhawan’s physical condition, services, management, and materials testing.

2. Developing conservation policies, actions, and strategies.

3. Detailing individual proposals, preparing secondary plans for the building, and conducting on-site stakeholder meetings to build a draft plan.

4. Completing mock-ups, concluding outreach, and finalizing the Conservation Management Plan (CMP).

After presenting an outline of the Gandhi Bhawan, this paper focuses on the CMP methodology, particularly the process of establishing significance and developing preservation policies.

The Gandhi Bhawan was designed with the specific intention of serving as an institution for disseminating Gandhian ideology and encouraging scholarship on the subject. It was also designed with the intent to serve as a memorial to Gandhi.

Figure 1b: Exterior view of Gandhi Bhawan.

GANDHI BAHWAN

Pierre Jeanneret is credited with the design and construction of several exceptional modern buildings. He had previously aided his cousin, Le Corbusier, in executing his vision for the city of Chandigarh. The design of the Gandhi Bhawan came as an opportunity for Jeanneret to express his own creativity by playing with form, material, shade, and shadow. Where Chandigarh was a low-budget project that allowed little room for experimentation, the Gandhi Bhawan was the first full-fledged opportunity for Jeanneret to design a building which explored form and symbolism. This commission came at a stage in Jeanneret’s career when his ideas on architectural form and aesthetics became fully defined. When the Gandhi Bhawan was near completion, Jeanneret expressed his views on design in Marg 1961 “the aesthetic sense will not depend in any case on the richness of material or on what it is meant to be, but on the richness of spirit, imagination, and invention.”2 The Gandhi Bhawan demonstrates Jeanneret’s luxurious inventiveness through his treatment of form, and his mastery of scale. Despite the modest size of the Gandhi Bhawan’s structure, it achieves a sense of monumentality through Jeanneret’s careful siting, and its juxtaposition with other buildings on campus.

The Gandhi Bhawan is composed of three wings jutting out in different directions that appear to be tethered together by its undulating roof. The three wings house the Gandhi Bhawan’s separate functions. One of the wings hosts a library, the second contains a small auditorium for lectures and seminars, and the third is comprised of a committee and seminar room. The simultaneous

multidirectionality and cohesiveness present in the Gandhi Bhawan’s massing strategy is symbolic, with the juncture of the three wings occurring in a central sky-lit space. As per architect Jeet Malhotra, a contemporary of Pierre Jeanneret these three wings possibly represent the three truths of Gandhian philosophy ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil.’ The building is situated in a reflecting pool, encouraging viewers to appreciate the building from afar. An avenue of royal palms frames the approach to the building

Figure 2: Damaged archival drawing of staircase detail at Gandhi Bhawan.

“the aesthetic sense will not depend in any case on the richness of material or on what it is meant to be, but on the richness of spirit, imagination, and invention.”

Figure 3: Site plan of Panjab University with Gandhi Bhawan marked in red circle.

and acts as a visual frame of reference. Jeanneret’s juxtapositions of sharp edges and gently rounded forms are said to be an abstraction of the Gandhian principles of truth and harmony reflected in the form of a concrete lotus.

3BACKGROUND RESEARCH

An extensive study of the Gandhi Bhawan’s archival documents was carried out at Panjab University. The research revealed interesting details about the construction of the Gandhi Bhawan building in the 1960s, including decisions to change the pool depth and archival images of structural details. Interviews were conducted with contemporary architects, engineers, draftsmen, and model makers who had worked with Pierre Jeanerret on Gandhi Bhawan or other contemporary buildings in Chandigarh. In cases where people were no longer alive, their family members provided useful information and photographs related to the building. The oral histories collected through this process were critical to understanding the Gandhi Bhawan’s conceptual framework and construction processes. Moreover, Panjab University formed a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) with the Le Corbusier Foundation in Paris to facilitate document sharing in order to enrich the research. Further drawings and sketches by Pierre Jeanerret were located in Montreal at the Canadian Centre for Architecture (figs. 1a, 1b). All archival documents (reports, drawings, estimates, photographs) sourced from the chief architect and engineer’s offices at Panjab University were studied in great detail and digitized for future reference.

Phase one of the workplan was largely comprised of historical and archival research as well as laser scans to document the building’s current condition. The team worked on tracing the architectural evolution of the Gandhi Bhawan, piecing together knowledge of its history—including the morphology of its landscape, as well as tracking the repairs and alterations to the site and building. A majority of the records came from the Department of Architecture and Engineering at Panjab University and were subsequently digitized by a team of consultants. The original drawings on tracing paper were photographed by conservators, and the drawings signed by Pierre Jeanerret were conserved, documented, and systematically stored in compactors (fig. 2).

Initial research phases focused on the Gandhi Bhawan’s conceptual development, design, and construction processes in order to establish its significance. At the first workshop in December 2015, the importance of situating the Gandhi Bhawan within the wider framework of Indian and international modern heritage was foregrounded. Specifically, the conversation centred on modern architecture in South Asia, its relationship with the international modernism, and the current status of modern buildings in India.

At the level of the site, the Gandhi Bhawan’s unique form, materiality, and structure are a counterpoint to other buildings at Panjab University which are more standardized in form and use exposed bricks with exposed concrete on the exteriors. Reviewing archival drawings and interviews with stakeholders allowed the CMP team to establish significant elements related to the Gandhi Bhawan’s design, structure, and execution. Initial research into the

Figure 4: Gandhi Bhawan (left) and surroundings including the Museum of Fine Arts and other institutional buildings in the background.

PHASE 1: ESTABLISHING SIGNIFICANCE

usage and repairs of the building also revealed specific challenges presented by the building’s design and structure (see table one, phase two). Discussions during the first workshop led to organizing an exhibition on modern Indian architecture, with a particular focus on Panjab University and the Gandhi Bhawan. Gandhi Bhawan was included amongst other modern works from 1950s and 60s in India to showcase several expressions of modernism throughout the country. The workshop and exhibition guided the assessment of the Gandhi Bhawan’s cultural significance within the context of Panjab University (fig. 3) and more broadly—Pierre Jeanerret’s work in Chandigarh. The curatorial and research processes further facilitated an understanding of the building’s importance within the context of Gandhism, which arose in the mid-twentieth century and created a framework for modern architecture in India. 4

The proceedings of ICOMOS’ Expert Meeting in 2011 Developing a Historic Thematic Framework to Assess the Significance of Twentieth-Century Cultural Heritage: An Initiative of the ICOMOS International Scientific Committee on TwentiethCentury Heritage work to identify themes or phenomena under which processes of twentiethcentury modernism can be classified and assessed.

The Gandhi Bhawan can be located within two main themes:3

1. “The role of government and changing approaches to governance,”and its sub-theme of "Education" as well as,

2. “Culture and society (new social and cultural forms): New ways of living, working and relaxing” and its sub-themes of "Cultural Institutions" and "Memorials."

These themes contextualize the Gandhi Bhawan’s significance within two important processes which shaped twentieth-century India; (1) the composition of a national identity, and (2) campus building. The third theme (which exists beyond ICOMOS’ framework), is that Gandhi Bhawan belongs to the genre ‘urban architectural ensemble’ as part of the Panjab University Campus.

The Gandhi Bhawan is an outstanding example of modern architecture within India—illustrating formal, technological, and material innovation within a Modern Movement formed to reflect post-independence ideals of nation-building and Gandhian philosophy. Simultaneously, it exemplifies situated modernism and the transnational exchange of architectural ideas which had impacts on both Indian and Western architecture. The building’s symbology as a sculptural white lotus flower reflected in a pool of water, and its relationship to adjacent red sandstone structures on the Panjab University campus (fig. 4) provide the Gandhi Bhawan with an iconic aesthetic significance as well.

Table 1: Significance matrix of the Ganhi Bhawan's various elements.

Figure 5a: Insitu black mosaic finished conference table topped with laminate.

Figure 5b: Exterior Lighting fixture in precast concrete panel.

Figure 5c: Mural by artist Satigh Gujral in lobby of Gandhi Bhawan.

Figure 6: Fixture and millwork details inside Gandhi Bhawan as documented by DRONAH.

Wall display detail, construted in timber.

In-built niche detail, constructed in concrete.

Wall light fixture detail, costructed in wooden board.

Railing detail, constructed in mild steel.

In-built handrail and cove lighting detail, constructed in concrete.

In-built cove lighting detail, constructed in concrete.

Table 2: History of repairs.

The cultural significance of the Gandhi Bhawan can be condensed into the following points:

1. Associative and historical value at the national level, understanding the Gandhi Bhawan’s embodiment Gandhian ideals and principles in its form and function.

2. Aesthetic value as a sculptural form surrounded by a reflecting pool—and its relationship to wider contexts: landscaping on the site and the Panjab University campus.

3. Architectural value as an example of modern architecture, through its use of material, technology, colour, and textural innovations.

4. Intercultural value reflective of the transnational cultural and ideological exchanges between Indian and European architects, designers, and patrons.

Besides these primary values, a more detailed analysis of the attributes of various elements of the Gandhi Bhawan—its form, exteriors, interiors, materials, colours, furniture, artworks, and landscape are presented in the tables on the following pages for further assessment and policy formulation (figs. 5a-5c, 6). For example, the precast concrete outdoor furniture, exterior lighting, interior cove light fixtures, railing details, and builtin furniture demonstrate Jeanneret’s particular approach to modern design.

The following categories prioritize elements of the building in relation to their significance and authenticity. These tables informed the CMP process’ policies and interventions, as seen in Table 1:

1. Exceptional Elements: Can only be replaced if necessary (depending on their condition). If they are replicated, they must adhere to the original form, color, material, and texture in totality.

2. Elements with High Value: The material has already been compromised to some extent and can be replaced with matching material when required, retaining similar colors and texture.

3. Elements with Low/ Medium Value: The material has been replaced completely due to excessive usage over time and can be replaced again as required, ensuring it does not impact other elements of high or exceptional value or the overall significance of the Gandhi Bhawan.

Infrastructure and services—including functional elements such as waterproofing layers, electrical connections, and toilet fixtures, etc. fall under the low category as they are only associated with the use and operational aspects of the structure and do not contribute to its aesthetic or historical value.

legend

deposit structural crack

surface crack

loss of material detached panel displaced panel exposed rebar

inappropriate repair

biogrowth

vegitation

termite staining

Figure 7: Condition mapping of concrete panels on the building's elevation.

Figure 8: Sounding test with hammer being carried out by Vanicka Arora, Conservation Architect .

PHASE 2: ASSESSMENT OF PHYSICAL CONDITION AND MATERIALS STUDIES

The work in this phase involved a detailed assessment of physical threats including structural and surface issues. Management problems were evidenced by the lack of maintenance and monitoring. The assessment of the preliminary condition included an inspection of each precast concrete panel on the exterior of the Gandhi Bhawan building through a series of sound tests and visual examinations. The Indian Institute of Technology Madras (IIT Madras) focused on sampling the strength and composition of various materials, as well as investigating their physical and mechanical properties. Simultaneously, a review of the Gandhi Bhawan’s building services, landscape, as well as recurring maintenance issues impacting its exterior, interior, and furniture was also completed. Various methodologies used to assess the conditions of various interior and exterior elements comprising the Gandhi Bhawan were tested between March and April 2016. Techniques including visual and mechanical surveys were used to identify the issues at the Gandhi Bhawan and were subsequently recorded through drawings and descriptions. A sounding survey was also completed for the cast-in-place concrete (fig. 7), with the results recorded on schematic elevations produced during the laser scan of the site (fig. 8). Problems and findings were investigated in detail and corroborated with scientific testing carried out by IIT Madras.  The survey was also supplemented by archival drawings and documentation, including the original specifications for the building.

Our survey of the Gandhi Bhawan revealed patterns which led to an understanding of the underlying causes of decay and allowed the CMP team to extrapolate how the building might behave in the future. For example, the structural assessment conducted IIT Madras stated that although the structure is safe, there is a risk of the concrete panels detaching from the building envelope in the future.

Figure 9: Studies mapping the proportion of the pool and building.

Figure 10: Gandhi Bhawan form representing concrete lotus in reflecting pool.

The studies of the pool revealed that Jeanneret deployed a shared geometric and proportional logic between the pool and building.

Critical evaluations and assessments were also completed in order to gain an understanding of the Gandhi Bhawan’s landscaping. The premise of this condition assessment was to interpret the building as an element within a larger landscape— one where the building’s context lends meaning to its built form and imbues it with wider symbolism. Information for these assessments was collected through the site and building plans, archival photographs, documents (such as estimation reports on pool construction), visual inspections, and input on the building’s maintenance from the engineering department of Panjab University. The natural and man-made components of the landscape design included: vegetation, water, landscape services, sculptural lighting fixtures, and most importantly—the reflecting pool structure with its concrete floor, retaining wall, and surrounding reinforced concrete footpath. The studies of the pool revealed that Jeanneret deployed a shared geometric and proportional logic between the pool and building (fig. 9). It was designed in a manner to reflect complete from of Gandhi Bhawan from all sides as a concrete lotus. Therefore, future modifications to the pool must consider and respect these interrelationships.

A complete history of repairs and alterations dating from 1970 onwards was recorded before undertaking the detailed condition assessment. As part of the CMP process, several repairs to the Gandhi Bhawan were conducted in cooperation with University stakeholders, initiated with a meeting held at the Panjab University Construction Office. Attendees included the University’s Vice Chancellor and the Principal at Chandigarh’s School of Architecture. The following changes were implemented between 2010-11:

• Repairs to the pointing of the external cladding of Gandhi Bhawan.

• Washing the Gandhi Bhawan’s external panels and plastering them with white cement.

• Providing air-conditioning to the entire building with split air-conditioning units.

• Electrical upgrades, including the concealment of exposed wiring.

• Dramatic lighting for the exterior was proposed.

• Changing the grass and bushes, and adding rocks to the surrounding landscape.

• Waterproofing of the roof and ensuring the finish is appropriate.

• Reupholstering the auditorium chairs in an appropriate fabric.

• Washroom floors to be cleaned, scrubbed, and repaired.

• Repairs to the sandstone flooring to be completed.

• Acoustical treatments to the auditorium.

• Removal of fluorescent lighting on the exterior façade.

• Repair or replace the lightning conductor.

• Cast a reinforced concrete slab in the pool and check leakage. and relay the topping

Many of the items discussed in the meeting4 were undertaken on site, as evidenced in recent images of the Gandhi Bhawan and site observations. For example, the original sandstone slabs were replaced, and steel railings were added to all three of the Gandhi Bhawan’s platforms. Chairs were reupholstered using a colored fabric similar to the original, and minor repairs were made to the hardware and seat fixtures. A water cooler was added—with the piping running through the washrooms, providing a continuous supply of drinking water inside the Gandhi Bhawan. Tube lights were added inside the library, auditorium and at the front of the building. The pool was waterproofed, and concrete paving surrounding the pool was repaired.

Repairs, cleaning, and surface treatment options were discussed to improve the condition of the exterior panels. Although some testing was undertaken, no large-scale repairs to the cladding panels occurred. Site observations confirm the completion of some small interventions that were marked in the Physical Assessment Drawings. Informal conversations with a local mason who has worked on the Gandhi Bhawan repairs confirm the same.

Water seepage through the original roof presented a major challenge. A bituminous membrane was installed over the existing concrete slab as a

waterproofing solution. This solution did not provide the desired water tightness as water continued to seep through the roofing. In 2011, building renovations occurred and the water leakage through the roof was addressed. A cold-applied moisture triggered polyurethane layer was applied over the existing bituminous surface following the minor cleaning and removal of the weak, debonded bituminous membrane.5 However, items such as air-conditioning and acoustical treatments have not been completed yet.

ground floor plan

Figure 11: Gandhi Bhawan spatial layout documented by DRONAH.

mezzanine floor plan

1 entrance hall

2 exhibition

3 store

4 lecture hall

5 stage

6 director's room

7 research council

8 library

9 lavatory 10 seminar room

1 upper part of entrance hall

2 upper part of lecture hall

3 upper part of director's room

4 upper part of library

5 stacks

6 upper part of seminar room

7 store

legend legend 2 6 7 8 10

3

4

5 9 6

8 7

terrace floor plan

Figure 10b: Aerial view of the Gandhi Bhawan at Punjab University c. 1963.

The premise of this condition assessment was to interpret the building as an element within a larger landscape—one where the building’s context lends meaning to its built form and imbues it with wider symbolism.

6

PHASE 3: DEVELOPING DRAFT CONSERVATION POLICIES, ACTIONS, AND STRATEGIES

The third phase was completed after several discussions between members of the CMP team. Conservation policies were drafted in response to the established values and overall significance for Gandhi Bhawan. During this phase, cast-in-place concrete and cladding panel samples were sent for material testing. Paint analysis was also performed by INTACH (Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage). The paint analysis coupled with archival images of the Gandhi Bhawan were used to establish consensus on the original surface finishes. Next, mockups were created and tested in order to outline a repair strategy for the grit wash panels. Finally, issues identified in phase two were compiled in order to create a holistic resource which could guide future conservation work; information on the Gandhi Bhawan’s physical condition, management, available resources, external factors, previous alterations, and archival resources. In addition to this contextual information, recommended policies were outlined addressing the Gandhi Bhawan’s conservation, use, interpretation, landscape, interiors, furniture, artwork, lighting, and services.

7

PHASE 4: FINALISING POLICIES BASED ON SIGNIFICANCE

The process of establishing the Gandhi Bhawan’s significance and its detailed condition assessments charted policies for the building’s conservation and future uses. These were further detailed with clear treatment plans and action strategies along with a monitoring mechanism. The Policies for the Gandhi Bhawan CMP are as below:

7.1 POLICIES TO RETAIN THE ARCHITECT’S VISION

Pierre Jeanneret’s conceptual views towards the form, symbolism, and innovative construction technologies employed at the Gandhi Bhawan underpins approaches towards its conservation, use, interpretation, and future interventions. Jeanneret juxtaposed the building’s curvilinear form with its reflecting pool, distinguishing it from its neighbouring structures through the contrasting use of exterior finishes and colour. It is the Gandhi Bhawan’s sculptural form, intended to represent a lotus, which contributes most to its architectural value (fig. 10). Furthermore, Jeanneret stressed the ‘richness of spirit, invention, and imagination’ as opposed to a ‘richness of materials.’6 The Gandhi Bhawan’s inexpensive cladding material, as well

Figure 12: Visitors sketching Gandhi Bhawan during a visit.

as its simple interior finishes and flooring are representative of Jeanneret’s highly modest and creative approach to design.

The overarching policies for Gandhi Bhawan respond to the identified values below and Jeanneret’s vision. All conservation uses and interpretative proposals for the Gandhi Bhawan shall be mindful of its sculptural form and symbolism as conceptualized by Pierre Jeanneret and his team. No additions or subtractions may be permitted to the structure or its setting which would diminish its formal composition in any manner.

Maintaining the authenticity of the Gandhi Bhawan and all of its elements should be the core focus behind any physical intervention. Any aspect of the building, or interiors, landscape, and fittings which positively contribute to its significance should be handled with caution. Wherever possible, stabilization and consolidation should be prioritized over reconstruction and replacement. Repairs and modifications which negatively impact the authenticity of the form, material, setting, and spirit of the structure or the original quality of its architecture should be removed.

While Jeanneret intended for Gandhi Bhawan to serve as a memorial, he also envisioned it as an institution for learning and disseminating Gandhian philosophies. This idea is enshrined within the

While Jeanneret intended for Gandhi Bhawan to serve as a memorial, he also envisioned it as an institution for learning and disseminating Gandhian philosophies.

Figure 13: The CMP team undergoing a physical assessment of the building.

simple and effective layout of the interior spaces (fig. 11), many of which continue to be used as they were intended.

The interior detailing of the building is emblematic of the modern traditions introduced to Chandigarh by Le Corbusier. The pivoted entrance wooden door, recessed cove lighting, carefully concealed services, and built-in functional furniture are all trademarks of modernism in the city. The use of primary colours in individual elements such as fesetration members against the stark light grey façade adds a sense of playfulness to the building. Inside the Gandhi Bhawan on the front wall facing the entrance is a mural executed by one of India’s finest contemporary artists, Satish Gujral (fig. 5c). This beautiful work expresses the "awakening of Indian masses and their advancement towards nationhood."7

The Gandhi Bhawan’s library is well-equipped with books on the life and works of Mahatma Gandhi. Its auditorium is frequently utilized by the various teaching departments at the University as well as by other institutions situated within and outside of Chandigarh. The Gandhi Bhawan continues to serve its original function except for the following, as outlined in the Use and Interpretation Policies for the 2017 KIM grant CMP.

1. The spaces inside the Gandhi Bhawan such as the Director’s Room and mezzanine floor in the library which are no longer used for their intended purpose, should be assigned appropriate programs which respond to the building’s significance. Continuity of use and function should be fostered and maintained to the highest degree possible.

The Gandhi Bhawan has a broad user base and multiple stakeholders who should be engaged through active dialogues on its use and conservation.

2. Interpretation is an essential component of the overall conservation and management of the Gandhi Bhawan and, thus, the documentation, research, and significance of the building should be communicated to a broad audience at regular intervals through visits, interpretation signage, exhibitions, and workshops.

3. The Gandhi Bhawan has a broad user base and multiple stakeholders who should be engaged through active dialogues on its use and conservation.

In addition to largely retaining its original architectural program, the Gandhi Bhawan serves as an important venue for discussions related to the Institute of the Gandhian Studies. During the preparation of CMP between 2015-17, the Gandhi Bhawan’s auditorium was used extensively to host all of the workshops and conferences associated with the plan’s preparation. The University hosts several functions and events in this auditorium throughout the year. More recently, the Gandhi Bhawan has observed a greater number of national and international visitors including architecture and art students interested in modernism (fig. 12).

7.2 OVERARCHING CONSERVATION POLICIES

The CMP policies developed for the Gandhi Bhawan draw upon existing guidelines for the conservation of twentieth-century structures such as the Madrid Document (second edition) of the ICOMOSISC20C, and the Eindhoven-Seoul Statement 2014 prepared by DOCOMOMO International. In addition, they reference existing international charters and frameworks, including the Venice Charter, the Burra Charter, and the Nara Document. The

policies for Gandhi Bhawan must also address its status as a ‘Protected Grade I’ building under the 2030 Chandigarh Masterplan. Furthermore, given the status of Chandigarh’s Capitol Complex as a recently inscribed UNESCO World Heritage Site, its CMP policies consider Chandigarh’s increasing recognition and the ramifications these trends will have on the importance of modern heritage in India. Finally and most critically, the policies are informed by the statement of significance and assessments presented in this document.

Conservation actions for Gandhi Bhawan shall be based on the rigorous documentation and research on various aspects of the building as well as a broader understanding of its geographical, historical, and architectural context, while also considering its present and future operational requirements. The overall policies for the conservation, use, and management of the Gandhi Bhawan are:

1. The conservation of Gandhi Bhawan will strive to convey the significance of the Modern Movement to a wider public audience as well as professionals and academics. It will endeavour to foster and disseminate the development of appropriate techniques for conserving twentieth-century heritage within the South Asian context.

2. Any conservation activity or future intervention shall consider the authenticity of the built fabric, furniture, fixtures, and finishes and shall strive to enhance and sustain its cultural significance. Interventions shall be undertaken after establishing clear limits for ‘acceptable change’, ensuring that these are sensitive to the values of Gandhi Bhawan while responding to the building being a vital and functioning part of

the Panjab University Campus.

3. The conservation, uses, and management of Gandhi Bhawan in its landscape shall respect the original intention of its designers and patrons. However, it will strive to address environmental sustainability concerns and try to balance the two as much as possible.

4. The potential impact of any physical intervention, repair, addition, or alteration which impacts the significance of the Gandhi Bhawan should be described in detail and critically assessed before commencing work.

5. The nature of interventions proposed in each building area should respond to the level of significance of the specific element it is impacting and the impact of the intervention on the Gandhi Bhawan’s significance.

Given the finite lifespan of certain materials used in the Gandhi Bhawan’s construction, it is advisable to generate samples based on laboratory results of the constituent materials and test these samples for compatibility with the original material in terms of strength, performance, and appearance.

Any physical intervention on the Gandhi Bhawan and its surroundings should be documented rigorously, with the documentation forming part of the archival material on the building. This documentation may serve as a benchmark for future interventions as well as resource material for professionals and academics. Conservation and interventions to the original materials should be identifiable on close inspection or communicated through documentation and interpretation.

The value of significant layers of change and the patina of age should be respected and addressed mindfully.

Specific policies for the landscape, exterior, interior, furniture, artwork, use, interpretation, lighting, infrastructure, services, archival resources, and risk management were developed by the CMP expert team based on each element’s assessment. These policies are essential in guiding any action or intervention impacting the Gandhi Bhawan’s conservation planning and are being referred to throughout the implementation of the CMP.

ENDNOTES

1. “Vision Statement,” In Conservation Management Plan for Gandhi Bhawan, Panjab University, 7. (The Getty Foundation, funded by the KIM Grant, 2017): https:// www.getty.edu/foundation/pdfs/kim/gandhi_bhawan_ panjab_university_cmp.pdf.

2. Pierre Jeanneret, “Aesthetic: Reflection on Beauty of Line, Shape and Form,” Marg 15, 57 (1961).

3. ICOMOS. Developing an Historic Thematic Framework to Assess the Significance of Twentieth-Century Cultural Heritage: An Initiative of the ICOMOS International Scientific Committee on Twentieth Century Heritage, (Los Angeles, California: ICOMOS and The Getty Conservation Institute, 2011).

4. “Minutes of Meeting convened on 3rd March, 2010,” circulated by the Panjab University Construction Office, March 25, 2010.

5. Siklastic Repairs Report

6. Pierre Jeanneret, “Aesthetic: Reflection on Beauty of Line, Shape and Form,” Marg 15, 57 (1961).

7. “Care of Body and Spirit-Gandhi Bhawan,” Marg 17, 1 (1963, December): 57.

THE PAROCHIAL CHURCH OF ATLÁNTIDA

A TRANSNATIONAL REHABILITATION

BY CIRO CARABALLO AND RODRIGO SÁINZ LARA, URUGUAY

THE PAROCHIAL CHURCH OF ATLÁNTIDA:

An emblematic Work of Modern Architecture with Local Spirit

1INTRODUCTION

Modern architecture is currently being seen through a new lens that considers historical research in order to shed light on the social milieus that informed the movement’s building projects. Construction methods for shell and ruled surfaces are a widely discussed theme present in this discourse, as popular methods that enabled freeform architecture between the mid-50s and 60s.

Engineer Eladio Dieste is considered one of the most talented designers of double curved surfaces constructed using reinforces masonry. Born in 1917 in the northern town of Artigas in Uruguay, he studied at the University of the Republic in Montevideo, graduating from the Faculty of Engineering in 1943. Dieste went on to establish his engineering and construction company, Dieste & Montañez S.A, in 1956.

Dieste pushed the boundaries of reinforced masonry construction in his work; taking advantage of the mortar joints between brick, reinforced with steel wire. Utilizing these three materials, he managed to span long distances while maintaining minimum shell thicknesses and a minimal use of reinforcement steel. The spatial flexibility and economy of means provided by Dieste’s system allowed for its application in various architectural typologies—ranging from single-family houses and small schools, to factories, industrial silos, gymnasiums, bus terminals, warehouses, and churches .

Between 1955 and 1995, Dieste used reinforced masonry shell structures, completing numerous building projects including one hundred and fifty

in Uruguay, forty in Argentina, twenty-six in Brazil, and five in Spain. His architecture stands out for its structural inventiveness, and the symbiosis between design intentions, construction methods, and form.

Located in the Municipality of Atlántida, in Uruguay’s capital city of Montevideo, the Cristo Obrero Church complex (also known as the Church of Atlántida) is one of the crown jewels of Dieste’s comprehensive and integrative approach to architecture. The church showcases of Dieste’s approach to geometry, function, structure, material,

Figure 1: Eladio Dieste, Parochial Church of Atlántida

and construction methods (fig.1). Dieste himself believed that the church complex demonstrated an achievement of “tighter adequacy to the laws that govern the equilibrium of matter” and that it was working in harmony “with the innermost order of the world.”1

In 2015, the Keeping It Modern grant was awarded to Dieste’s Cristo Obrero Church complex, financing the development of a rehabilitation plan led by Dr. Ciro Caraballo.

2UNDERSTANDING CONTEXT - A SMALL CHURCH WITH STRANGE SHAPES IN A WORKERS’ VILLAGE

Upon its completion in 1961, Dieste’s church in Atlantida became widely recognized in international architectural publications. Its extraordinary curved design and exposed brick were featured in: The Spanish Informes de la Construcción in January 1961, L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui in July 1961, The Architectural Review in September 1961, and on the cover of Progressive Architecture in April 1962

Though internationally acclaimed, the complex was not recognized locally until March of 1962, when it received coverage in the Montevideo newspaper El País. Despite the Church being granted National Historic Monument status in 1997, its recognition within Uruguay has never been widespread. Knowledge of its construction processes and technical achievements remained scarce. The Church’s architecture and structure never underwent a proper diagnostic assessment, and the complex lacked a Conservation Management Plan (CMP). This is partly due to limited access to the church property, although a parish, it only hosts religious services for one hour on Sundays with regular religious services being provided mostly at Atlántida’s old church. With this limited use, repairs and maintenance on the property were inconsistent and the Cristo Obrero Church fell into a state of disrepair.

2.1 THE CMP TEAM

The KIM grant allowed the project lead to involve professionals who have long been involved with the Cristo Obrero Church. This included architect Esteban Dieste, who is the son of Eladio Dieste, and the current owner of the construction company Dieste & Montañez S.A. Esteban together with engineer Gonzalo Larrambebere (who had previously worked with Eladio Dieste for fifteen years before his passing) had assumed responsibility for the church’s repairs for twenty years before the start of the CMP process.

The grant also made it possible for professors from the architecture and engineering faculties at Universidad de la República to join the CMP team. This group offered an in-depth knowledge of Dieste’s work, and extensive architectural preservation experience. These professors suggested hiring technicians from the Department of Canelones, one of Uruguay’s nineteen territorial administrations.

The CMP proposal by the research team incorporated urban proposals for the area surrounding the church. This was necessary due to the zoning and legal implications of restoring Dieste’s complex. The utilization of specialists and private consultants on the project team ensured access to state-of-theart technology and methods to survey the site and undertake structural calculations—reinforcing the CMP’s claims with measurable data.

A number of international experts joined the CMP process; four from Mexico, one from Brazil, one from the Netherlands, and two from Spain— adding to a team of fifty-one specialists altogether. Their role was to establish the buildings’ heritage values within an international framework. A ten-

Figure 2: Birds' eye view of the church and surrounding buildings.

Figure 3: A brick mason-artisan completing the structural reinforcement of brick during construction.

Dieste pushed the boundaries of reinforced masonry construction; a system that takes full advantage of the joints between brick, concrete, and steel.

Figure 4: Ground floor plan

legend

1 baptistery

2 confessionals

3 ship

4 presbytery

5 chapel of the virgin

6 sacristy

7 antecristia

8 bell tower

month plan and five thematic working groups were established, each coordinated by two experts who were given the freedom to lead the research. Finally, two symposia were organized to share results and discuss proposals for the CMP.

2.2 SEARCHING FOR DOCUMENTS

The office of Dieste & Montañez still exists, with portions of its archives still in existence. Unfortunately, the material found in these archives only illustrated the church in its early stages. No asbuilt drawings were found, and the drawings offered little practical value to the CMP team. The archives did contain important contextual information in several forms including: drawings of the church prepared for a publication, hand sketches, cost spreadsheets, photos, undeveloped film, as well as

administrative documentation stating the names of the staff who participated in the construction of the church.

The real surprise came from a cardboard box that was found in the parish archives containing letters from the engineer and the administrative board, detail drawings, and various invoices produced by the church. The invoices shed light on the scope of construction work that was commissioned, as well as materials, objects, and furniture purchased for the complex. More information about the building was gathered from press and magazine articles, photographs from various sources, and interviews with construction workers who are still alive today

2.3 LAYOUT AND STRUCTURE

The Cristo Obrero Church complex consists of a temple with a rectangular floor plan, a circular underground baptistery, a cylindrical bell tower, and a parish containing a residence and office (fig.2).

The one-hundred square meter parish building was never used for its intended purpose as an office and residence because the priest continued to live in the old Atlántida church six kilometers south from Dieste’s construction. Due to its vacancy, the parish building was later demolished and replaced with a Catholic school and a residence for the Catholic teachers.

All four buildings of the Cristo Obrero Church complex were built with reinforced masonry—a technique that uses masonry composed of solid or hollow ceramic bricks. The bricks are bound by a structural mortar made out of sand and cement, and the composite material is structurally reinforced

with steel wires placed within the mortar joints (fig. 3). Although Dieste is not the only engineer to apply this system, his combined use of reinforced ceramic masonry with catenaries and external tensioners that absorb and balance the overall structural system allowed his work to reach unprecedented limits.

The Church’s temple building is composed of one single nave, confessionals, a sanctuary, a chapel, a sacristy, and an ante-sacristy. The temple’s nearly rectangular ground floor plan is thirty-three meters long and sixteen meters wide (fig. 4). The height of the nave varies between seven meters at the lateral walls and 8.40 meters at the summit of the central axis.

A continuous set of double curvature vaults built with reinforced masonry form the roof (fig. 5). These vaults are catenary curves—where the base of the curve moves in a horizontal plane while its height varies.2 The parish’s vaults span between 13.20 meters and 18.80 meters, with their heights ranging between 0.07 meters and 1.40 meters. Each vault is six meters wide. The vertical forces applied to the vaults are supported by the two lateral walls (fig. 6).

The horizontal thrust of the vaults is carried by two horizontal curved beams, which are attached to vault’s baseline. At the same time, these curved beams transfer the horizontal load to steel bars (tensile members), which are lodged within the vaults, (in the lowest catenaries, namely in those which have the smallest heights). It should be noted that the trajectories of these tensile members are not straight lines, but small catenaries (0.07 meters). This ensures that the tensile members

The Cristo Obrero Church complex was an iconic project for Dieste, and for his firm, Dieste & Montañez. The complex allowed Dieste an opportunity to challenge his own standards for the construction of concrete shells[...]

remain hidden inside the vault. The symmetrical horizontal thrusts that pull at both ends of each tensile member neutralize each other.

Both lateral walls are seven meters high. They are ruled surfaces generated by the motion of a straight ruling line (generatrix) resting in two directrices: a horizontal straight line directrix at ground level, and a horizontal undulating directrix placed at a height of seven meters. These ruled surfaces are thirty centimeters thick. They are formed by two contiguous solid masonry layers joined by a filling of structural mortar. Reinforced with steel wires placed in the horizontal joints of the walls and the inner mortar filling. The side walls are supported on small pilings (0.15 meters in diameter) cast on site (fig. 7). At the top of the walls, where the undulation is deeper, small rectangular windows with colored glass allow natural light to filter in towards the altar (fig. 8a). From the last undulation of the left lateral wall, a niche with the form of a truncated pyramid juts outwards from the building, forming the Chapel Our Lady of Lourdes (fig. 8b).

The front and rear façades of the temple are structurally disconnected from the roof and lateral walls. They represent a varied typology composed of different geometries. The front façade with the main door has curved and straight sections placed under the choir mezzanine level. On the mezzanine, there are four horizontal sections with screen walls forming sun shields, closed off with narrow onyx windows that allow northern sunlight to enter the temple. Confessionals are under the mezzanine adjacent to the front façade wall. A stair built with reinforced masonry and a perforated brick railing leads up to the choir.

The baptistery is an underground building located outside the temple. It is composed of a 4.52-meter diameter and 2.26-meter-high circular wall, covered by a spherical dome built with reinforced brick. At the apex of the dome, a cylindrical skylight allows natural light into the baptistery. The structure rests on small concrete pilings placed under the circular wall. From the outside, the baptistery can be entered through a stair and an underground corridor. Once users are inside the baptistery, a second corridor can be accessed—leading to a staircase that connects the Church to the baptistery.

The bell tower is made of a reinforced brick wall, with a diameter of 2.80 meters and a height of fifteen meters, punctured by small windows (fig. 9). The bell tower walls are crowned with a depressed conical dome with the bell hanging in its center. The bell tower contains an inner helical staircase with cantilevering brick steps—spanning the full height of the bell tower.

The demolished parish residence was the final component of the Cristo Obrero Church complex. Its design drew from Dieste’s previous experience constructing small self-supporting vaults for domestic programs. The sketches that represent the residence illustrate a simple space meant for four people. It was, composed of a living-dining room, three enfilading small bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen equipped with pantry and storage rooms. The kitchen was ventilated and lit by a service patio. The residence plan was divided into two parts; a private side with bedrooms catering to the needs of the residents, and a public side containing a livingdining room that could host parishioners.

Two residences allowed entry into the residence; one through the main patio (which also served as a garage), and another through the service patio. Unfortunately, the building was demolished long ago, and no photographs were found. Only a few construction sketches were available to the CMP team.

3ASSESSING SIGNIFICANCE: MORE THAN BRICKS

The Cristo Obrero Church complex was an iconic project for Dieste, and for his firm, Dieste & Montañez. The complex allowed Dieste an opportunity to challenge his own standards for the construction using reinforced masonry, which he first developed while working with the Catalonian architect Antoni Bonet on the construction of Casa Berlingieri in 1945 (Portezuelo, Maldonado, Uruguay).

Dieste’s work is known to be among the most relevant contributions to the Modern Movement in Latin America.3 His work stands out for its technical and constructive innovation, and for its capacity to embrace and consolidate two of the basic postulates of the Modern Movement in architecture: rigor and authenticity.4 Furthermore, Dieste’s work is significant because it embodies an unprecedented integration of aesthetics and an economy of means.

Daylighting was an essential to the temple’s design concept. Dieste used natural light to create an atmosphere appropriate for prayer and worship. The orientation of natural light was carefully gauged by Dieste in order to avoid overpowering parishioners. Light was used selectively, filtering in

behind praying parishioners in an otherwise semidark atmosphere. To achieve such a tour de force, Dieste analyzed the movement and inclination of the sun, resulting in the design of seven skylights on the southern portion of the roof. The skylights radiate beams of light towards the altar, creating a chiaroscuro effect (fig. 10). These seven circular skylights create perforations around one large central oculus that is surrounded by six smaller ones. Each skylight was created by cutting ceramic planters, then glazing them with onyx slabs. During specific seasons, light entering from the skylights pours directly onto the sculpture of the Christ of Yepes—located on the cross at the center of the altar.

During the early morning and evening, low sun angles hitting the eastern and western facades enter the church through small perforations covered in purple, blue, yellow, and lilac glass, and plates of white onyx (fig. 11). This colored glass reinterprets the traditional stained-glass windows of gothic churches. The curvature of the walls allows the

Figure 5: Structural diagram showing lateral walls

Figure 6: Section showing roof vaults.

Dieste’s work is known to be among the most relevant contributions of Latin American architecture to the Modern Movement. 3 His work stands out for its technical and constructive innovations and for its capacity to embrace and consolidate two of the basic postulates of the Modern Movement in architecture: rigor and authenticity. 4

projection of colors onto their folding surfaces. It is important to note that Dieste dedicated most of his time on the construction site to the installation of the colored glass. At first Dieste looked at locally produced monochromatic glass but later switched to colored glass panels imported from Germany that he personally distributed throughout the lateral curved walls though a long process of trial and error. Today these colored glass panels have been replaced due to the original ones being damaged, with locally sourced colored glass.

Light diffusion using onyx panels occurs in several instances throughout the church complex; (1) on the main façade (between its vertical sun shield walls), (2) in the Chapel of Our Lady of Lourdes, and (3) in the gap between the main façade, the lateral walls, and the roof.

On the rear façade, a low, tilted window sheds indirect light onto the sacristy and the office (fig. 10). This window is covered with a rare piece of rectangular onyx, including a piece of embedded square of glass. This effect of indirect light diffused from the rear window highlights the rough texture of the back wall of the temple and enhances the image of Christ in front of it. On sunny days, natural light entering from openings in lateral walls creates a chiaroscuro effect with strong shadows revealing the curved surfaces in the vaults and material properties of the brickwork—which varies in its tonality.

With its vernacular technical solutions, the Cristo Obrero Church is a paradigmatic example of the term ‘cosmic economy’ coined by Dieste. The term refers to the ‘deeply practical’ and ‘mysteriously expressive’ built work Dieste aimed for, in opposition to the ‘apparently practical’ modern architecture he scorned.5 For Dieste ‘cosmic economy’ included

a respect for materials used in construction that would meet basic human needs without creating waste, resulting in a condition that is in ‘agreement with the order of the world.’6

Dieste believed that contributions by the engineer, architect, and contractor should be concerned with ethical and social commitments as outlined in his concept of ‘cosmic economy,’ a commitment Dieste fully embraced in the Cristo Obrero Church complex. It is this particular characteristic in Dieste’s oeuvre that contributed to the church’s addition to the tentative list submitted to UNESCO by the to enable the church’s inclusion in the World Heritage List.

4DATA COLLECTION TO INFORM POLICIES: FIELD RESEARCH

The conservation management of an architecturally significant building, (however small it may be) requires the collection of varied sources and types of information; including asbuilt plans (showcasing changes, deteriorations, and past repairs), programs and usage patterns, stakeholder input, human and economic resources, urban conditions, and upcoming changes.

4.1 THE CURRENT CONDITION OF THE COMPLEX

Almost fifty-eight years after its construction, the church is in a remarkably acceptable condition considering the lack of maintenance and damage it has experienced. After 1995, successive priests and members of the parish attempted to conduct maintenance tasks and improvements. Unfortunately, these well-intentioned efforts were

not always appropriate, sometimes doing more harm than good. In 2005, the changes in the liturgy of the Second Vatican Council led to alterations inside the temple such as the relocation of the altar and the modification of the path leading to the presbytery.

One of the most serious culprits causing damage to the building is the oxidization of steel rebar. It has caused cracks in the ceiling above the staircases and baptistery hall, the lateral curved walls, the chapel’s niche, and the bell tower. While some of these cracks have been repaired in the past, new ones appeared since. The steel reinforcement in the roof has also been oxidizing since 2002—namely the roof of the temple. This problem was caused by the loss of the waterproofing layer protecting the rebar from damage— the steel tension rods in particular.

Figure 7a: Image of the Church during construction.

The site’s rising water table has created another recurring problem; the flooding of the underground baptistery and its access corridor where water levels rise up to one meter above the level of the finished floor. This problem was temporarily resolved in 2010 with the installation of a water pump. The rising water table may have also impacted soil movement on the site by changing the soil’s moisture content. The CMP team believe these changes are responsible for the small cracks visible in the baptistery’s dome. Fortunately, this minor damage does not have a significant impact on the overall structural integrity of the baptistery.

Due to the church being situated in a large open field with few surrounding neighbors and far from pedestrian transit, vandalism has led to the deterioration of stained-glass and onyx windows.

The lack of a common agreement between the parish, the neighboring school, religious community, and governmental institutions (such as the municipality), and community groups has made it difficult to control ongoing vandalism on church grounds.

Engineers on the CMP team advised that assessing the structural integrity of beams spanning between columns is the most pressing, as they are the most vulnerable elements in the structure (corrosion was observed in their metal reinforcement). Due to the lack of eaves, the bell tower’s sides are persistently wet—resulting in deterioration—specifically around the staircase. Due to this vulnerability the metal reinforcement ion the façade was damaged— causing many bricks to fracture. Positively, the bell tower did not present any variations or cracks on

it horizontal and vertical axes—indicating that its structural integrity is intact, and that it complies with the safety coefficient established by the technical norm.

4.2 THE STAKEHOLDERS

The CMP for the Cristo Obrero Church complex must respond to the needs of a complex set of private and institutional stakeholders. These stakeholders can be separated into three groups: (1) those acting at the scale of the church complex and its immediate surroundings, (2) those operating at the scale of the city and its corresponding level of government, and (3) those working at the national scale.

Hermanas Nuestra Señora del Rosario Association is an institutional stakeholder serving a double role; they own the bell tower, and they manage the Catholic school which regularly uses the church— contributing to the social environment on the site and its basic maintenance.

Parroquia Cristo Obrero and Nuestra Señora de Lourdes, is another active institutional presence comprised of a small but very active religious group. They offer regular religious activities such as catechism classes inside the temple (fig. 13). Although they are not recognized as an official Catholic organization, this group considers the Cristo Obrero Church as an important referent and catalyst for local action.

The municipality of Atlántida and its council are the main stakeholders at the city scale— although they lack the economic resources to lead conservation work on the church complex. Their yearly funds depend on an overall budget from

the local government of Canelones (Intendencia de Canelones) which is one of the nineteen departments that make up the country of Uruguay. The department of Canelones itself encompasses thirty municipalities including Atlántida. The municipality of Atlántida and its council are the most immediate government figures in relation to the local population, as they are responsible for providing basic services, including the maintenance of urban infrastructure. The Mayor oversees executive decisions, and is democratically elected every five years.

Figure 7b: Lateral walls connected by beams as seen during construction.

The municipality of Atlántida and its council are the main stakeholders at the city scale—although they lack the economic resources to lead conservation work on the church complex.

Figure 7c: Curved beams supporting the vaults as seen during construction.

At the scale of the governmental department the Bishop of Canelones is the main stakeholder. The popular leader’s residence is about thirty minutes from the temple of the Cristo Obrero Church. The church land belongs to the Uruguayan Catholic Church, and the Bishop is its highest representative at the departmental level. His role includes managing decisions, actions, and proposals pertaining to the temple. Both the Bishop and the President of the National Heritage Commission are the main stakeholders for the CMP of the Church.

The Intendencia of Canelones is another stakeholder operating at the departmental scale. It is the regional government body in charge, acting as an intermediary between national and local governments. Executive responsibilities are the prerogative of the Departmental Mayor (Intendente) who is elected directly by the citizens of the department every five years. Unlike the municipal government, the Intendencia of Canelones has the financial capacity to implement some of the rehabilitation work needed for the church. They also have the financial bandwidth to create and implement an urban planning strategy for the church complex and its surrounding area, unlike the patrimonial authorities responsible for the buildings. Similarly, the Directorate of Cultural Heritage and the Directorate of Tourism in the Department of Canelones can influence and fund urban planning strategies for the site and its context making them key stakeholders.

The national stakeholders on the project are all situated in Montevideo. Among them are the National Heritage Commission (CPCN)—a national heritage authority attached to the Ministry of Education— and the University of the Republic’s faculties of architecture and engineering.

The municipality of Atlántida and its council are the main stakeholders at the city scale—although they lack the economic resources to lead conservation work on the church complex.

Figure 8a: Rectangular windows at the top of the lateral walls.

Private sector stakeholders include the Eladio Dieste Foundation, which is a civic association founded in 2017 to support the preservation and the dissemination of Eladio Dieste’s work, and the firm Dieste & Montañez, which still has technical expertise to consult on the conservation, restoration, and maintenance of reinforced masonry construction.

There are other organizations which can use their position and relevance to aid in the promotion and implementation of the Cristo Obrero Church Complex CMP. They include the Ministry of Education and Culture, Ministry of Tourism, Society of Architects of Uruguay, and the Episcopal Conference of Uruguay. The team plans to invite representatives from these organizations to attend the final CMP presentation.

Figure 8b: The truncated pyramid forming the chapel.

IMPLEMENTING AND MONITORING THE CONSERVATION AND MANAGEMENT PLAN

The implementation and enforcement of a Conservation and Management Plan are difficult, expensive, and complex endeavors. Yet, the CMP’s successful implementation is essential to ensuring the long-term survival of a significant heritage building. The implementation of the CMP relies on human and financial resources, community support, and adequate communication.

The Management Unit of the Cristo Obrero Church Complex CMP is composed of an Executive Committee and a Deliberative Committee with the participation of a set of institutional and social actors to ensure full citizen involvement in the management of the complex.

The Executive Committee’s responsibility encompasses decision-making impacting interventions onsite. The Deliberative Committee supports the Executive Committee in formulating alternatives to inform the decision-making process, and is composed of stakeholders directly related to the existing management of the church complex. Involving a wide range of stakeholders in the CMP meetings allows them to understand the Executive Committee’s decisions, promoting the informed development of plans and programmatic changes on site. Moreover, advanced knowledge of the topics discussed in each meeting allows all community, institutional, and academic stakeholders to gather relevant information or draft requests for clarifications (fig. 14).

Figure 9: Exterior view of the bell tower.

5.1 PROJECTS

The CMP consists of seventy-two projects working to achieve the complete rehabilitation of the church complex. These projects are organized around four strategic lines of action; each embodying a different orientation towards the conservation of the church complex.

When combined with the objectives of the CMP, the results of the seventy-two projects will further guide the rehabilitation and conservation work. They will elucidate the development and implementation of conservation strategies by shedding light on damages, execution schedules, financing opportunities, and the socio-political conditions surrounding the project.

5.2 THE STRATEGIC LINES OF ACTION

The implementation of the CMP is structured around four strategic action lines:

5.2.1 Conservation of archives and research

These activities involve data collection, scientific research, disseminating knowledge about the church complex, raising awareness of its patrimonial significance, and nurturing the appropriation of the Church’s heritage by stakeholders and users taking advantage of the information archival information produced by Diest during his career for the better understanding of the church complex and its significance.

5.2.2 Constructive interventions and equipment

This action line involves rehabilitation work required to return the Church to its original design, while allowing for the Catholic liturgy to take place.

5.2.3 Urban interventions

This work encompasses rethinking functional and visual relationships on the project site and its immediate surroundings, including: accessibility considerations, the provision of services for visitors by implementing urban and landscaping work.

5.2.4 Sustainability

The final thread of action involves the search for financial resources to achieve the proposed objectives in a maximum timeframe of twenty years.

5.3 PHASING

For the timely execution of the CMP’s actions listed above, three phasing stages were established, over a timeframe of eighteen years.

5.3.1 Short term: 2017-2020

The CMP includes one key project: the repair of the entire roof necessitating an investment of 100,000 USD. This project was selected because it is an immediate priority that can easily obtain financing and immediate approval from all stakeholders, including approved resources from the departmental government’s public budget.

4.3.2 Medium term: 2020-2025

The CMP includes projects which have a chance to receive funding within the next five-year departmental public budget cycle, in addition to potential private financial contributions. To reinforce the implementation of these medium-term projects, the CMP recommended collective forms of financing such as crowdfunding, international fundraising, as well as grant applications to international corporations and development agencies.

Figure 10: Altar overhead light.

This work encompasses rethinking functional and visual relationships on the project site and its immediate surroundings, including: accessibility considerations, the provision of services for visitors by implementing urban and landscaping work.

4.3.3 Long term: 2025-2030

The projects in this phase of the CMP involve complex and costly rehabilitation work that can be financed by public funds. In general, these are urban projects that might also attract private funds if coupled with an awareness campaigns promoting the heritage value of the church complex and encouraging donations.

Since 2017, a working group has been established to ensure the advancement of the CMP actions and to monitor its key quantitative and qualitative indicators. The working group is composed of representatives from the Commission of Cultural Heritage of the Nation (CPCN), the Ministry of Tourism, the Bishopric of Canelones, the Eladio Dieste Foundation, and the Tourism and Heritage Directorates of the Government of Canelones. Indicators monitored by the work group include: the number of visitors, events promoting Church’s heritage and significance, direct jobs generated from the site’s maintenance and operation, the number of local businesses supporting visits to the Church or affiliated with its events, the quantity of projects entirely financed by crowdfunding or other non-public sources, the general public’s perception of conservation efforts, and appropriation of the Church’s values. These variables work to indicate the level of commitment the general public and institutions have towards the property, taking into account invested capital may vary due to inflationary or budgetary adjustments throughout the time data is gathered. The indicators are weighted to add up to 100%, aiming to measure annual visitors, cultural events, direct and indirect jobs generated, local businesses associated with the public use of the site, and an annual perception survey.

4.4. FUNDING SOURCES

Many of the projects outlined in the CMP strategic lines of action exceed the financial capacity of the organizations responsible for the site’s management and maintenance. The CMP recognizes the necessity of searching for alternative partners in order to obtain financial resources adequate for the restoration and conservation of the church complex. The CPCN can request specific funds from the Ministry of Education and Culture or from the Presidency of Uruguay for urgent interventions. Funds can also

Figure 11: Light refelected by colored glass decorates the Church's interior worship space.

be requested from other governmental bodies such as the Ministry of Tourism and the Ministry of Transport and Public Works. Likewise, the CPCN has the possibility of financing the CMP projects within UNESCO’s MERCOSUR Cultural Program. The Bishopric of Canelones, on the other hand, can find sources of financing or patronage for projects related to the restoration of religious objects, icons, and furniture, and for the improvement of lighting and sound. The Municipality of Canelones can also fund urban interventions around the site, as part of its existing budget for urban projects in Atlántida.

Figure 12a: Light penetrating tilted windows seen from the interior.

Figure 12b: Tilted windows seen from the exterior facade.

The orientation of natural light is carefully gaged to avoid overpowering the faithfuls, who pray in a semi-dark atmosphere, with light penetrating from behind them. To achieve such a tour de force, Dieste analyzed the movement and inclination of the sun, resulting in the seven skylights on the southern part of the roof, which radiate intense beams on the altar, leaving the rest of the interior of the church in semi-darkness.

Lastly, other contributions, such as grants, sales from related products, as well as technical and guided tours should be considered. The Eladio Dieste Foundation will lead an online patronage campaign, develop a collective financing platform, and undertake crowdfunding initiatives.

The management plan for the conservation of Cristo Obrero Chruch sets up a detailed action plan listing tasks that go from six months to ten years. Today, the short-term action phase of the CMP has been completed, thanks to the support of the Catholic Church which donated USD 100,000.

Eladio Dieste’s work is a reference for all who dedicate their lives to the construction. His work searched for an exceptional balance between the shape and use of a building in relation to how the building techniques that allowed him to create works whose spatial and constructive qualities have been and continued to be praised and awe worthy. His worked focused on the finding the best solution to the spatial need at hand and he never considered his work done until a projects construction was done. In his own words: “The builder is indispensable; even as project, a building is not really conceived without how it is to be constructed being resolved and the ways to do it have a noteworthy virtue to inspire; all valid types of new constructions are intimately tied to the construction technique and this technique can be read in the finished product."7

Figure 13: Workshop with local residents as part of the education program included in the CMP.

Nelsys Fusco Technical Coordinator

Commission for the Cultural Heritage of the Nation of URUGUAY

Church owners

Canelones Dep. Authority University Udelar

Techincal represent.

Ciro Caraballo

Technical manager/ Project leader Monica Silva Deputy

Nerry Gonzalea Leader - Team 1

William Rey Deputy - Team 1

Virginia Vidal

Photographic & video records and communications Techincal represent.

Team 1: Historical research and cultural values

Personnel: Monica Silva; Alicia Barreto; Ciro Caraballo; Mary Mendez; Leonardo Gomez; Pablo Canen.

Esteban Dieste Leader - Team 2

Marcello Paysse Deputy - Team 2

Gonzalo Larrambebere Leader - Team 3

Alfredo Canelas Deputy - Team 3

Team 2: Plainmetric survey

Personnel: Fransisco Striewe; Juan C. Portillo; Miguel Gavirondo; Alicia Barreto; Sebastian Dieste; Martin Reina.

Team 3: Pathologies and damages

Personnel: Lucia Pesci; Gianella Mussio; Magdalena Castro; Carola Romay; Stela Sabalsagaray; Gonzalo Cetrangolo; Alina Aulet; Atilio Morquio; Miguel Pedron.

Paolo Florio Leader - Team 4

Nathalia Brener Deputy - Team 4

Team 4: Urban control and risk management

Personnel: Rodrigo Alonzo; Maria Noel; Agustina Porro; Lia Musso; Pablo Ross; Juan Articardi; Ana L. Goni.

Ciro Caraballo Leader - Team 5

Virginia Vidal Deputy - Team 5

Team 5: Stakeholders, social participation and projects bank

Personnel: Nelsys Fusco; Lucero Chavez; Esteban Dieste; Nathalia Brener.

Nelson Inda President

Domingo Gallo Focal Point

Figure 14: Organizational chart showing the operation of the management unit of the CMP.

ENDNOTES

The material covered in this text was extracted from the conservation and management plan published in the KIM Getty foundation program library, which can be consulted at: https://www.getty.edu/foundation/pdfs/kim/comision_del_ patrimonio_cultural_de_la_nacion_management_plan.pdf

1. Eladio Dieste & Graciela Silvestri, Escritos Sobre Arquitectura, (Montevideo, Uruguay: Irrupciones Grupo Editor, 2011), 25.

2. A catenary is the curve an idealized hanging chain or cable assumes under its own weight when supported only at its ends. The catenary curve has a U-like shape, superficially similar in appearance to a parabolic arch, but it is not a parabola. Equation: y = acos(x/a) The x axis, perpendicular to the line of symmetry of the catenary curve, is the diretrix. It is at a distance ‘a’ below the lowest point of the curve.

3. Comisión del Patrimonio Cultural de la Nación, Iglesia de la Parroquia de Cristo Obrero y Nuestra Señora de Lourdes: Plan de Manejo, (Uruguay: Getty Foundation, 2017).

4. Ibíd.

5. Juan Pablo Bonta, Eladio Dieste, (Buenos Aires: Facultad de Arquitectura y Urbanismo: Instituto de Arte Americano e Investigaciones, 1963), 16.

6. Universidad de la Republica, Facultad de Arquitectura, Diseño y Urbanismo, “Dieste Ex Machina,” Vimeo, 1:40:35 (38:30), November 1, 2016, video, https://vimeo. com/189780316.

7. Eladio Dieste, Arquitectura y construcción, en Escritos sobre arquitectura. Eladio Dieste. Prólogo de Laszlo Erderly. (Irrupciones grupo editor: Montevideo, 2011)

IMAGE CITATIONS

1. Fig. 1: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo, Eladio Dieste, Parochial Church of Atlántida (2016).

2. Fig. 2: Reproduced by permission from Marcelo Paysse. Birds’ eye view of the church and surrounding buildings (2016).

3. Fig. 3: Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive. Structural reinforcement of brick during construction. (1961).

4. Fig. 4: Reproduced by permission from Marcelo Paysse. Ground level floor plan. (2016).

5. Fig. 5: Reproduced by permission from Sebastian Dieste and Martin Reina. Structural diagram showing lateral

walls. (2016).

6. Fig. 6: Reproduced by permission from Marcelo Paysse. Section showing roof vaults (2016).

7. Fig. 7a: Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive. Image of the Church during construction. (1961).

8. Fig. 7b: Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive Lateral walls connected by beams as seen during construction. (1961)

9. Fig. 7c: Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive. Curved beams supporting the vaults as seen during construction. (1961)

10. Fig. 8a: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo The truncated pyramid forming the chapel. (2016)

11. Fig. 8b: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Rectangular windows at the top of the lateral walls (2016)

12. Fig. 9: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Exterior view of the bell tower. (2016)

13. Fig. 10: Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive. Altar overhead light (no date)

14. Fig. 11: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Light refelected by colored glass decorates the Church’s interior worship space. (2016)

15. Fig. 12a: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Light penetrating onyx tilted windows seen from the interior. (2016)

16. Fig. 12b: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Tilted windows seen from the exterior facade. (2016)

17. Fig. 13: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Workshop with local residents as part of the education program included in the CMP. (2016)

18. Fig. 14: Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Organizational chart showing the team in charge of creating the CMP (2017)

19. Fig. 15 : Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo. Organizational chart showing the operation of the management unit of the CMP (2017)

AFTERWORD

In the introduction to his 1975 book Age of the Masters: A Personal View of Modern Architecture, Reyner Banham recalled the Modern Movement’s recently-deceased “first generation.” “While they lived,” he wrote, “they tyrannized the Modern Movement, monopolizing attention and preventing the recognition of other (not always lesser) talents.”1 After the passing of the movement’s main actors (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, Walter Gropius, Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier)—all elite white men, the provincial limitations of existing narratives were becoming more apparent. However, little was done to consider a mechanism for including architectural practices in geographies previously dismissed. Banham recognized the “tyranny” of Modern “masters,” and it was a tyranny scripted by historians who collaborated with leading American and European architects to forge a ‘movement,’ establish the supremacy of its ‘pioneers’ over other architects, communicate their theories, and list their masterworks.2 The caveat of such an intellectual project is that it uncritically universalized particular European and North American experiences, assuming their unchallenged superiority. This view of the history of architecture conforms to Banister Fletcher’s infamous ‘Tree of Architecture,’ which can only be understood within the wider historical context of invented racial theories following the discovery of the Americas and the age of slavery

and imperialism that followed.3 It is with this backdrop of politically and economically harnessed ‘othering’ that the inventory of selected works accumulated by generations of Western historians was elevated as an iconic formal expression of the Modern; against which all architectural production occurring outside the purview of these architects and their historian colleagues would automatically be dismissed or even worse, accused of forgery.4

Figure 1: Earthrise, photograph by NASA and William Anders, 1968.

Today, how can we conserve that which has yet to be identified, recognized, studied, and documented; largely due to historical coincidences that place it on the periphery of the Western canon?

Since the end of the Second World War, severe inequities have shaped the world; with manifestations of uneven development among nations and within them—and most evidently between the ‘First’ and ‘Third’ Worlds. The current logic of capitalism has not only shaped labor, territories, and spaces of a planet still devastated by the disastrous consequences of colonialism, it has also shaped the ways in which we view and speak about the world we inhabit—including its architecture. The logic of ‘value’ dictates the material and heritage worth of a building, and impacts prospects for its protection. It also shapes the ways in which historians (largely tied to Western institutions), have attempted and often failed to assess the ‘value’ of architectural production in previously marginalized geographies; often bypassing the complexity of local expertise and narratives in order to accommodate Western-centric histories. At best, such efforts have been additive at a pace far behind the course of history. The inclusion of a handful of architects from the ‘Global South’ in the dominant histories of Modernism—such as Egypt’s Hassan Fathy or Mexico’s Luis Barragan—foreclosed

As a loaded term, does ‘Modernism’ still sufficiently encompass the complexity of belatedly emerging histories and architectural specimens?

the possibility of considering contending visions from the ‘regions’ they have come to represent.5 Recurrent in the semiotics of the disciplines of art and architectural history are attempts to trace the ‘origins’ and ‘influences’ of twentieth-century architecture produced in the margins, often utilizing terms such as ‘borrow’ and ‘exchange.’ These narratives blindly universalize a capitalistic logic of ownership over aesthetics in a world where concepts of authorship and copyright vary greatly across time and space. For a truly global history of architecture to emerge, such conventions must be scrutinized and discarded.

As a loaded term, does ‘Modernism’ still sufficiently encompass the complexity of belatedly emerging histories and architectural specimens? Categories invented during the age of Enlightenment and imperialism include the names of styles, movements, concepts, theories, histories and hierarchies that were operative in placing material value on architecture in unprecedented ways.6 For example, the fates of contemporaneous and comparable structures built in Cairo and London at the turn of the twentieth century were vastly different a century later in material, cultural and historic value— locally and globally, and in the ways in which they have been maintained and remembered, or not. These starkly opposing fates have often been explained as the results of local successes or failures in manage built heritage and municipal affairs, obscuring a more complex view that considers the global movement of capital, debt, expertise and the coloniality of power.7 Stylistic categories, such as those popularized by Western art history are provincial—when considered from a truly global perspective—and are simultaneously

Figure 2: Cover of the UNESCO Courier, October 1961 issue featuring the Riccardo Morandi winning proposal for saving the temples of Abu Simbel.

These seemingly disconnected architectural expressions contemporaneously belong to multiple, unstudied, intersecting imaginaries as well as corresponding networks of expertise, patronage, and interests.

Figure 3: Cover of Udo Kultermann's New Architecture in Africa, 1963.

powerful tools for excluding potential specimens, often entire landscapes, which do not comfortably adhere to these modes of categorization. Further, in a supposedly postcolonial world; non-Western histories of the modern are written in the languages of colonial powers (English, French and German) rather than local languages—a direct reflection of the institutional hegemony shaping contemporary knowledge production. Western art’s historical categories, the fixation on the architect as a unique creative genius, and the constant reproduction of a center-periphery view of the history of architecture conceal the true globality of the modern. Rather than impose a reading that centers a style or a location, ‘the global’ is evident in the factual identifiers necessary for conventional architectural history, such as: location, date, and the identity of the architect.

The six projects presented in this book were built in far-flung geographic locations: Tripoli, Sidi Harazem, Ankara, Sao Paolo, Chandigarh and Estación Atlántida; all ‘peripheral’ in the dominant, well-established historiographic schema centering the West—produced in the shadow of industrialization and colonialization, first by European historians and later by their American counterparts. What links these buildings together is not their subscription to a fixed style or a particular notion of the modern as defined by European or American experiences. Rather, they belong to local histories and realities, each an exploration of the potentialities of place and materiality in a world in which ‘the international’ is a concurrent reality, not one in conflict with locality. These seemingly disconnected architectural expressions contemporaneously belong to multiple, unstudied, intersecting imaginaries as well as corresponding networks of expertise, patronage, and interests. These intersections necessitated

the revision of the Modern Movement’s stable narratives by later historians who, for example, shed light on Mediterranean and North African architecture’s impact on Le Corbusier’s early formulations of Modern design, extending far beyond his famed European sites.8 Conversely, presenting Chandigarh solely within a framework of national modernity suppresses narratives in which the Modernist city is a node of intersection for geographies far beyond Punjab. Thus, place, or the “national,” is insufficient for framing the complete stories of such works of architecture. These and other examples demonstrate that Modernism was multi-focal and networked; and its production did not conform to the historiographic dichotomy of the West and ‘the rest’. The world—first pictured in 1968 from the surface of the moon—has been a deeply connected place. A truly global history of architecture will reveal these connections, not conceal them (fig. 1).

As construction commenced on the Fair Ground in Tripoli in 1964, an unprecedented global effort was underway to save the temples of Abu Simbel in Egypt. That year, the Venice Charter codified internationally accepted standards of conservation practice relating to architecture and sites. The 1960s was an eventful decade for unsettling conventions pertaining to architecture, heritage, and history. All six case studies were under construction during the 1960s—a decade that witnessed the rise and often quick defeat of postcolonial movements and uprisings, a fervent global Cold War, austerity, protests, revolutions, coups, shifting geopolitical terrains, unprecedented immigration, and a global trend towards urban migration. It is within these conditions that the reconfiguration of global

capital on every inhabited continent was led by new, globally-networked, national elite classes— regardless of political brand—who mobilized the currency and symbolic value of architecture to represent progress, newness and independence. After the Second World War, and perhaps for the first time in human history—a new global condition emerged through which the heritage value of a building was detached from its material value. In this context, the material value of a recognized prefabricated Modern house in the suburbs of Paris far outweighs the material value of a unique, yet undocumented, ancient or Modernist house in Peru or Iraq. Beginning in the 1960s, enthusiasm for tourism galvanized a generation of mobile architects and critics to ‘explore’ new frontiers— “discovering” new sites, meeting practitioners elsewhere, birthing a widespread critique of Modernism, and questioning what comes next. The fate of architecture—ancient and contemporary, became intertwined (fig. 2).

In the 1960s, debates in Western architectural circles around the ‘canon’ were only beginning to recognize its limitations. Some historians were eager to be the first to conquer new art historical terrains, such as German-American Udo Kultermann, whose 1963 book New Architecture in Africa (fig. 3) features on its cover the Rehabilitation Center for Youth in Tit Melil, Morocco designed by Jean-François Zevaco.9 Kulterman’s astonishingly wide expertise is represented by his numerous publications including New Japanese Architecture (1960), New Directions in African Architecture (1969), Contemporary Architecture in Eastern Europe (1985), and Contemporary Architecture in the Arab States (1999). Moving beyond the West,

for many Western historians, has meant becoming an expert on the architectural production of the rest of the world. In this context, ‘the global’ emerged as a Western construction designed to encompass ‘the rest’ of the world. Commercial aviation allowed those with travel privileges to discover the world’s many corners, enabling the selective capture of architectural histories and their present conditions.. This growing awareness of the world’s architectural diversity did not translate to a recognition of the equal value of cultural and architectural production when considered local. Instead, newly discovered constructions were inserted into a hierarchical structure of a global history of architecture with the center of gravity remaining in a handful of elite academic institutions in European and American cities. This inadvertently shaped global and local outlooks on the status and fate of marginalized colonial and post-colonial buildings, and influenced the direction of contemporary architecture. The hegemony of Western historians and institutions has meant that ‘the global’ has yet to establish itself on equal footing. Like the 1960s, ‘the global’ remains mired in political, economic and professional struggles today.

The architects whose works are represented in this publication embody the restlessness of the twentieth century. Jean-François Zevaco (Casablanca, 1916 –Casablanca 2003) was born to a family from Corsica, studied in Paris and Marseille and built profusely across Morocco. Escaping post-war Italy, Lina Bo Bardi (Rome, 1914 – Sao Paolo, 1992) arrived in Rio in 1946, where her practice flourished at the periphery of the male-dominated profession. There, she met Oscar Neimeyer (Rio de Janeiro, 1907 –2012) who in 1966 escaped political unrest in Brazil,

eventually practicing in Algeria for six years while the implementation of his Fairground in Tripoli, Lebanon was underway. A fellow Latin American, Eladio Dieste (Artigas, 1917 – Montevideo, 2000), was an engineer by training with a career exploring new frontiers in the use of concrete and brick, two global building materials. Pierre Jeanneret (Geneva, 1896 –1967), cousin and collaborator of Le Corbusier, passed during that decade—having firmly been established in the Modern Movement, while Behrus Çinici (Istanbul, 1932 –Ankara, 2011) and his wife Altuğ Çinici (Istanbul, 1935) belonged to a young, less celebrity-oriented class of locallyeducated architects who lent their expertise to construction booms in their recently industrialized countries. Buildings of outstanding design quality by trained architects proliferated—no longer built in the thousands across the globe—but in the millions, annually. Yet, despite the diverse richness of their work and scope of their production, the places ‘global’ architects occupy are not equidistant from established Western knowledge production

Moving beyond the West, for many Western historians, has meant quickly becoming an expert on the architectural production of the rest of the world.

centres promulgating architectural history through recent research commitments exploring ‘global’ history and its architectures—in delinquent efforts to compensate for previous systemic omissions.10 While architectural production has been multifocal and globally connected, on the local level, the institutional infrastructure necessary for the production of architectural histories, and subsequently institutions concerned with architectural documentation and conservation have not materialized in most cases for political and economic reasons; creating a dependence on Western, well-funded institutions for the study and conservation of such sites. In this context, buildings worthy of protection continue to face development threats and disappear quickly. Some architects and their works are belatedly discovered, however most—then and now—remain invisible and unknown.

Architectural history is the backbone of conservation. Reading these six manifestations of the Modern during the present conditions of exacerbated global crises of power, capital and indeed architecture, brings into sharp relief the urgency of action. The priority is not to establish who to add, or which structure to recognize and elevate to the status of an icon; rather, it is to urgently expose the uneven development of the institutional infrastructures necessary to produce a global history of architecture from below. The additive approach in which the canon maintains its structures and ‘pioneers’ has failed to keep up with knowledge production and its associated architectures around the world. Unresolved colonial cultural, political, and economic legacies paired with the evolution of capitalism in the twenty-

first century into a speculative property-based enterprise, have placed immense pressures on the survival of thitherto-unrecognized architectural landscapes. As demonstrated by the Keeping It Modern program’s various awardees, the buildings exist—as do the local voices advocating on their behalf, and the necessary expertise and resources which will change their fate. Sometimes even political will—often the most difficult component to muster—exists. The aforementioned examples of best practices by the original architects, builders, as well as present teams of conservators, present a clear case for a revolutionary approach towards how we study and protect humanity’s collective built heritage; while respecting values bestowed by wider audiences, users, and practitioners of architecture.

Mohamed Elshahed Mexico City, November 2020

ENDNOTES

1. Reyner Banham, Age of the Masters: A Personal View of Modern Architecture, (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1962), 3.

2. Anthony Vidler, Histories of the Immediate Present: Inventing Architectural Modernism, (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2008).

3. Sibel Bozdogan, "Architectural History in Professional Education: Reflections on Postcolonial Challenges to the Modern Survey." Journal of Architectural Education (1984-) 52, no. 4 (1999): 207-15. Accessed November 11, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1425410.

4. Esra Akcan, “Postcolonial Theories in Architecture,” in David Rifkind, Elie Haddad (eds.), A Critical History of Contemporary Architecture: 1960-2010 (New York: Ashgate, 2010), 119-140.

5. Keith Eggener, “Placing Resistance: A Critique of Critical Regionalism,” Journal of Architectural Education 55, no. 4 (May 2002): 230.

6. Irene Cheng, Charles Davis, Mabel Wilson (eds): Race and Modern Architecture: A Critical History from the Enlightenment to the Present (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2020).

7. Aníbal Quijano, “Coloniality of Power and Eurocentrism in Latin America,” International Sociology 15, no. 2 (June 2000): 215–32.

8. Zeynep Celik, “Le Corbusier, Orientalism, Colonialism,” Assemblage no. 17 (April 1992), 58-77.

9. Udo Kultermann, New Architecture in Africa, (New York: Universe Books, 1963).

10. Francis D. K. Ching, Mark Jarzombek, and Vikramaditya Prakash (eds.) A Global History of Architecture, (Hoboken, N.J.: Wiley, 2011).

IMAGE CREDITS

INTRODUCTION

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Cover Image: Photograph of Sidi Harazem Thermal complex, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

Figure 1: World Heritage list entries per region, ACP drawing based UNESCO figures.

Figure 2: Photograph of the hotel at the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station, lifted on pilotis, 2021, Personal Archive, Aziza Chaouni

Figure 3: Photograph of model and questionnaire used during co-design workshops for the conservation masterplan of the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

Figure 4: Photograph of the arid mountain landscape around the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station as seen from Zevaco's complex, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

Figure 5: Photograph of clay and wooden traditional water vessels used at the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Station, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

Figure 6: Screenshot of the ACP interview with Jordanian architect Ammar Khammash at Sidi Harazem as part of the KIMMHUP workshop, The full video can be seen at: www. kimmhup.com.

CONSERVING MODERN HERITAGE PLACES UNDER PRESSURE

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Cover Image: Photograph of Sydney Opera House, Australia, Personal Archive, Lindy Kerr

Figure 1: Photograph of Sirius Public Housing, Sydney, Australia, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 1b: Reproduced under CC BY 4.0 from Dextra Photo. (Teigens Fotoatelier, 1969-72).

Figure 1c: Photograph of Miyakonojo Civic Centre, Japan, by Takashi Oyama, (1966).

Figure 1d: Photograph of Al Sawaber Housing Complex, Kuwait, Peronal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 1e: Photograph of Roskilde Viking Ship Hall, Norway, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 1f: Photograph courtesy of Thomas Stellmach. Moscow - Day 4 - Shukhov Radio Tower (Melnikov) 4. Photograph. Flickr. May 30, 2010. https://flic.kr/p/8xPiak

Figure 1g: Photograph courtesy of Thomas Stellmach. Moscow - Shukhov Radio Tower (Melnikov) 1. Photograph. Flickr. May 30, 2010. https://flic.kr/p/8xSkGs

Figure 2a: Photograph of Abraj Al Kuwait, Kuwait City, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 2b: Photograph of Robie House, Chicago, USA, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 2c: Photograph of Robben Island, South Africa. Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 2d: Photograph of Paimio Hospital, Finland, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 2e: Photograph of Pamphula, Brazil, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 2f: Photograph of Brazillia, Brazil, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 3: The cover of the MND document, 2017. Reproduced with permission from Sheridan Burke. ISC20C Approaches to the Conservation of Twentieth Century Cultural Heritage.

Figure 4: The KIM CMP flowchart. Courtesy of Getty Conservation Institute. © J. Paul Getty Trust.

Figure 5a: Photograph of The Kosovo National Library, Kosovo, 2015. Personal Archive, Emanuel Gjokaj and Bekim Ramku

Figure 5b: Photograph of The METU Faculty Building, Turkey, Personal Archive, Ayşen Savaş

Figure 5c: Photograph of Sidi Harazem Thermal bath Station, Morocco, Sheridan Burke

Figure 5d: Photograph of The Gandhi Bhawan, India,

Personal Archive, Shikha Jain

Figure 5e: Photograph of Rectangular windows at the top of the lateral walls, 2016. Personal Archive, Ciro Caraballo

Figure 5f: Photograph of Tripoli Fairground, Lebanon, 2018. Personal Archive, Maya Hmeidan and Mosbah Rajab, Abdel Rahman Ghomrawi

Figure 6: Photograph of Sydney Opera House, Australia, Personal Archive, Lindy Kerr

Figure 7: Photograph of Eames House, Los Angeles, California, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

Figure 8: The Eames Hang it All. Graphic courtesy of Getty Conservation Institute. © J. Paul Getty Trust

Figure 9: Photograph of TWA Terminal, New York City, Personal Archive, Sheridan Burke

THE INTERNATIONAL AND PERMANENT FAIRGROUND OF LEBANON

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Cover Image: Photograph of the Lebanon Pavilion, Tripoli, Lebanon, by permission of Maya Hmeidan. (UNESCO Beirut Office, 2019)

Figure 1: Photograph of general view of Rachid Karami International Fair in Tripoli, Lebanon, reproduced by permission from Carl Stephan, (Bureau Stephan, 2003).

Figure 2: Photograph of Ferdinand Dagher and other members of the CEGP welcoming Oscar Niemeyer at Beirut Port in July 1962, Lebanon, reproduced by permission from Fadlallah Dagher, (Ferdinand Dagher Collection, 1962).

Figure 3: Photograph of Niemeyer’s proposed urban plan for a third urban core in addition to the old city of Tripoli and Al Mina, Lebanon, reproduced by permission from the UNESCO/Beirut Office project archive, (Commerce Du Levant, 27 Oct 1962), 7.

Figure 4: Photograph of the general plan of the Permanent and International Fair of Lebanon in Tripoli as proposed by Niemeyer, reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, , (Conseil Exécutif des Grands Projets (CEGP) booklet, Foire Internationale et

Permanente du Liban à Tripoli, produced on the occasion of laying the foundation stone, October 1, 1963), 17.

Figure 5: Niemeyer’s drawing of the Main Exhibition Pavilion or the “Grande Couverture”, reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (CEGP booklet, October 1, 1963), 7.

Figure 6: Photograph of the Main Exhibition Pavilion or the “Grande Couverture”, Tripoli, Lebanon, reproduced by permission from Maya Hmeidan, (UNESCO Beirut Office, 2019).

Figure 7: Photograph of the Lebanon Pavilion, Tripoli, Lebanon, reproduced by permission from Maya Hmeidan, (UNESCO Beirut Office, 2019).

Figure 8: O. Niemeyer’s drawing of the Lebanon Pavilion, reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (Módulo 7, October 1962, n. 30), 13.

Figure 9: Photograph of the Day Care (1st left), Experimental Theatre (Dome), Lebanon Pavilion, Helipad and the Ramp and Monumental Arch leading into the Open Air Theatre, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Maya Hmeidan, (UNESCO Beirut Office, 2019).

Figure 10: Photograph of Open Air Theatre with the Grand cover (left) and the water tower (right). Notice the Quality Inn hotel in the background - previously the collective housing, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Mosbah Rajab, (Abdel Rahman Ghomrawi, 2018).

Figure 11a: Article from 1962 reporting the launch of the Fair, Reproduced by permission from the UNESCO Beirut Office project archive, (Excerpt from the French newspaper Le Commerce Du Levant, 15, September 1962), 1.

Figure 11b: Article from 1963 reporting the launch of the Fair, Reproduced by permission from the UNESCO Beirut Office project archive, (Excerpt from the Arabic newspaper Al Inchaa, 14, May 1963).

Figure 11c: Article from 1st of October 1963, Laying the foundational stone of the RKIF, Reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (CEGP booklet, 1963), 2.

Figure 12: Photograph of the state of deterioration and neglect for some buildings at the RKIF, such as the Administration building, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Maya Hmeidan, (UNESCO Beirut Office, 2019).

Figure 13: Photograph of Graffiti at Niemeyer’s Guest House, reminiscent of the site occupation period, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Maya Hmeidan, (UNESCO Beirut Office, 2019).

Figure 14: Niemeyer’s design of the Collective Housing, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (Módulo 7, Oct.,1962, n. 30), 20.

Figure 15: Aerial view of RKIF in 1974 prior to the outbreak of the civil war , Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from the Directorate General of Geographic Affairs, (Lebanese Army - Directorate General of Geographic Affairs, 1974).

Figure 16: Aerial view of RKIF in 1999 after the end of the civil war and the partial rehabilitation of the site, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from the Directorate General of Geographic Affairs, (Lebanese Army - Directorate General of Geographic Affairs, 1999).

Figure 17: Photograph of The status of the ceiling of the first basement at the Open Air Theatre, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Maya Hmeidan, (UNESCO Beirut Office, June 2019).

Figure 18: Cover page of Niemeyer’s article on the Tripoli Fair, Reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (Módulo 7, October 1962, n. 30).

Figure 19: Excerpt from the Arabic newspaper Al Hadara, Reproduced by permission from the UNESCO Beirut Office project archive, (Al Hadara, 31 December 1966).

Figure 20: The Grand Cover during construction, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Fadlallah Dagher, (Ferdinand Dagher Collection, 9th of July 1965).

Figure 21a: Photograph of the site during construction circa 1966-1967, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from George Mouawad, (Mouawad and Eddé Collection, 19661967?).

Figure 21b: Photograph of the site during construction circa 1966-1967, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from George Mouawad, (Mouawad and Eddé Collection, 19661967?).

Figure 22a: The complete set of execution drawings for the Portico as well as the other structures studied by the Associated consulting Engineers – ACE, Reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (ACE, 1964).

Figure 22b: Excerpt of the Portico’s Architectural drawing executed by ACE after Oscar Niemeyer’s plans, Reproduced by permission from the Rachid Karami International Fairground Archive, (ACE, October 1964).

Figure 23: Photograph of Ferdinand Dagher (1st left) and Oscar Niemeyer (7th left) on the construction site of the Tripoli Fair during his 2nd visit to Lebanon between December 1966 and Januray/February 1967, Reproduced by permission from Fadlallah Dagher, (Ferdinand Dagher Collection, 1966-1967).

Figure 24: Photograph of the Fair’s director, on site presenting a file on the project to President Charles Helou and Rachid Karami, Tripoli, Lebanon, Reproduced by permission from Laurice Chalhoub, Amado Chalhoub, (Amado Chalhoub Collection, date uncertain, c. 1964-1970?).

THE SIDI HARAZEM THERMAL BATH STATION

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Cover Image: Photograph of Sidi Harazem Thermal complex, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

Figure 1: Postcard of Moussem Imilchil.1960, Aziza Chaouni Personal Archive, Author Unknown

Figure 2: Aerial Image of Sidi Harazem. circa 1964, Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 3: Photograph of Post Office Agadir, 1961, J.F Zevaco,

Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 4: Photograph of Columns at Sidi Harazem, Jacques Afriat commissioned by J. F Zevaco, Reproduced courtesy of Dominique Teboul.

Figure 5a: Image of J.F. Villa Plan. Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 5b: Image of Zevaco's studio fence, author unknown. Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans.

Figure 6: Photograph of a view of the courtyard at Sidi Harazem today, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

Figure 7: Postcard from the colonial era depicting the oasis of Sidi Harazem, Aziza Chaouni Personal Archive, author unknown

Figure 8: Panorama of the site constructed by Zevaco, Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 9: Plan from the service of urbanism service showing the Sidi Harazem site context, 1958, Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 10: Zevaco’s hand sketches over the site, Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 11: Masterplan evolution, Aziza Chaouni Projects.

Figure 12: Detailed physical model of Sidi Harazem, Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 13: Photograph taken during construction, Reproduced courtesy of © Collection Frac Centre-Val de Loire, Orléans. J.F Zevaco Fonds.

Figure 14: Diagram of water circulation through the station Aziza Chaouni Projects.

Figure 15: Photograph of The pool at the bottom of the valley, Jacques Afriat commissioned by J. F Zevaco, Reproduced courtesy of Dominique Teboul.

Figure 16: Photograph of bridge and stair in need of replacement at Sidi Harazem, Personal Archive, Aziza Chaouni

Figure 17: Engaging the collective memory of Sidi Harazem users and locals through social media. Screen Capture, Aziza Chouni

Figure 18: Photograph of Vierendeel truss, 2021, Personal Archive, Andreea Muscurel

THE KOSOVO NATIONAL LIBRARY

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Cover Image: Photograph of the Kosovo National Library, Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF)

Figure 1: Photograph of an aerial view of the Library showing its seventy-four domes, Shala Fitim

Figure 2: Photograph of exterior aluminum lattice wrapping on the library's facade. Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 3: Blueprint of the masterplan by Bashkim Fehmiu, Andrija Mutnjakovic

Figure 4: Photograph of the Prishtina University Campus model by Bashkim Fehmiu, Andrija Mutnjakovic

Figure 5: Photograph of the library after its completion, Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 6: Photograph of dome skylights providing daylighting in the library's interior spaces. Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 7a: Photograph of The Gracanica Monastery, Gracanica, Kosovo. Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 7b: Photograph of The Prishtina Grand Mosque, Prishtina, Kosovo. Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 7c: Photograph of The Kosovo National Library. Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 8a: Artwork by Victor Vasarely; Kroa MC, 1970, aluminium anodisé, 50 x 50 x 50 cm, Photograph courtesy of Raúl Vilar. Kroa-MC (1969). Photograph. Flickr. August 21, 2018. https://flic.kr/p/29dNHvC

Figure 8b: An initial sketch for the Kosovo National Library, Andrija Mutnjaković

Figure 9: (a-d): Floor plans of the Kosovo National Library, Preliminary Design Concept Brief, Andrija Mutnjakovic

Figure 10a: Photograph of the main reading room immediately after construction, Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 10b: Photograph of the current condition of the main reading room, Rand Eppich

Figure 11: Photograph of the central double height atrium, Rand Eppich

Figure 12a: Photograph of alterations covering original windows, blocking daylight, Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 12b: Photograph of inappropriate materials such as glass block walls, Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

Figure 12c: Photograph of unsafe guardrails at mezzanine level, Reproduced courtesy of Kosovo Architecture Foundation (KAF).

THE METU FACULTY OF ARCHITECTURE

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Cover Image: Göbektaşı Area. Photographed by Duygu Tüntaş, METU-Ankara, 2016, Reproduced courtesy of METU Faculty of Architecture Archive.

Figure 1a: Photograph of an aerial view of the METU Faculty of Architecture, Reproduced courtesy of METU Faculty of Architecture Archive.

Figure 1b: Program axonometric illustrating the METU Buildings, created by METU-KIM Project Team, within the scope of “Research and Conservation Planning for the METU Faculty Of Architecture Building Complex By Altuğ-Behruz Çinici, Ankara, Turkey”, submitted to the Getty Foundation in 2018.

Figure 2a: Ground floor plan, METU Faculty of Architecture, SALT Research, Altuğ-Behruz Çinici Archives. TABCODTUD0295.

Figure 2b: Section, METU Faculty of Architecture, SALT Research, Altuğ-Behruz Çinici Archives. TABCODTUD0298.

Figure 3a: Photograph of the METU site prior to the campus' construction, Reproduced courtesy of METU Faculty of Architecture Archive.

Figure 3b: Photograph of an aerial view of the METU campus, Reproduced courtesy of METU Faculty of Architecture Archive.

Figure 4: Photograph of The METU Faculty of Architecture as a "learning laboratory," Reproduced courtesy of METU Faculty of Architecture Archive.

Figure 5a-5c: Built-in furniture. From left to right: The Fountain. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, Göbektaşı Area and the Courtyard, Reproduced courtesy of METU Faculty of Architecture Archive

Figure 6: Photograph of tree roots growing in the METU Faculty courtyard. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, METUAnkara, June 2018.

Figure 7: Socio-political and Infrastructural threats, the border line of the rapidly growing city and the METU Forest. Photographed by Ali Rad Yousefnia, 2018.

Figure 8: Different visualization modes for the METU Faculty of Architecture. From left to right: View of the Göbektaşı area, photographed by Duygu Tüntaş, three different views from the HBIM model, created by METU-KIM Project Team, within the scope of “Research and Conservation Planning for the METU Faculty Of Architecture Building Complex By Altuğ-Behruz Çinici, Ankara, Turkey”, submitted to the Getty Foundation in 2018.

Figure 9a: Photograph of METU Faculty of Architecture Panel in METU Campus Documented Travelling Exhibition. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, TU Delft, May 2019.

Figure 9b: Photograph of METU Housing Panel in METU Campus Documented Travelling Exhibition. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, TU Delft, May 2019.

Figure 10a: Photograph of METU Faculty of Architecture "Representing Itself" Exhibition. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, METU-Ankara, February 2019.

Figure 10b: Photograph of METU Faculty of Architecture "Representing Itself" Exhibition. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, METU-Ankara, February 2019.

Figure 11a-11c: Photograph of Puzzle Workshop with the physical model created by Arch 104 – First Year students, conducted by Bengisu Derebaşı. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, METU-Ankara, July 2018.

Figure 12a-12c: Photographs of #HugtheFaculty from students and users of the Faculty. Photographed by F. Serra İnan, METU-Ankara, July 2018

THE GANDHI BHAWAN

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Cover Image: Photograph of the Gandhi Bhawan, Photographed by Ravipreet Sandhu, Reproduced courtesy of Development and Research Organisation for Nature, Arts and Heritage (DRONAH), Gurugram, India.

Figure 1a: Plan and sectional elevation of Gandhi Bhawan, Reproduced courtesy of Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA) Archives

Figure 1b: Exterior view of Gandhi Bhawan, Reproduced courtesy of Canadian Centre for Architecture (CCA) Archives.

Figure 2: Damaged archival drawing of staircase detail at Gandhi Bhawan, Reproduced courtesy of Panjab University Architectural Department Archives.

Figure 3: Site plan of Panjab University with Gandhi Bhawan marked in red circle, Reproduced courtesy of Panjab University Architectural Department Archives.

Figure 4: Photograph of Gandhi Bhawan (left) and surroundings including the Museum of Fine Arts and other institutional buildings in the background, Photographed by Ravi Sandhu, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 5a: Photograph of Insitu black mosaic finished conference table topped with laminate, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 5b: Photograph of exterior lighting fixture in precast concrete panel, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 5c: Photograph of mural by artist Satigh Gujral in lobby of Gandhi Bhawan, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 6: Fixture and millwork details inside Gandhi Bhawan as documented by DRONAH, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 7: Condition mapping of concrete panels on the building's elevation, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 8: Photograph of sounding test with hammer being carried out by Vanicka Arora, Conservation Architect, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 9: Studies mapping the proportion of the pool and building, Dr Suchandra Bardhan, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 10a: Photograph of Gandhi Bhawan form representing concrete lotus in reflecting pool, Photographed by Ravipreet Sandhu, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 10b: Photograph of Aerial view of the Gandhi Bhawan at Punjab University c. 1963, Reproduced courtesy of Panjab University Architectural Department Archives

Figure 11: Gandhi Bhawan spatial layout documented by DRONAH, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Figure 12: Photograph of Visitors sketching Gandhi Bhawan during a visit, Reproduced courtesy of Panjab University Architectural Department Archives.

Table 1: Significance matrix of the Ganhi Bhawan's various elements, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

Table 2: History of repairs, Reproduced courtesy of DRONAH, Gurugram, India.

THE PAROCHIAL CHURCH OF ATLANTIDA

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Cover Image: Photograph inside Parochial Church of Atlántida, Photographed by Ciro Caraballo, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 1: Photograph of Parochial Church of Atlántida by Eladio Dieste, Photographed by Ciro Caraballo, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 2: Birds’ eye view of the church and surrounding buildings, Photographed by Marcelo Paysse, 2017, Reproduced by permission from Marcelo Paysse.

Figure 3: Photograph of structural reinforcement of brick during construction,1961, Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive.

Figure 4: Ground level floor plan, 2016, Dieste & Montañez Archives, Reproduced by permission from Marcelo Paysse.

Figure 5: Structural diagram showing lateral walls, 2016, Juan Gerardo, Oliva Salinas, Marcos Javier, Reproduced by permission from Sebastian Dieste and Martin Reina.

Figure 6: Section showing roof vaults, 2016, Dieste & Montañez Archives, Reproduced by permission from Marcelo Paysse.

Figure 7a: Photograph of the Church during construction, 1961, Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archives.

Figure 7b: Photograph of lateral walls connected by beams as seen during construction, 1961, Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archives.

Figure 7c: Photograph of curved beams supporting the vaults as seen during construction, 1961, Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archives.

Figures 8a: Photograph of rectangular windows at the top of the lateral walls, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figures 8b: Photograph of the truncated pyramid forming the chapel, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 9: Photograph of exterior view of the bell tower,

Photographed by Javier Villasuso, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 10: Photograph of altar overhead light, Reproduced by permission from the Dieste & Montañez Archive.

Figure 11: Photograph of Light refelected by colored glass decorates the Church’s interior worship space, Photographed by Javier Villasuso, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 12a: Photograph of light penetrating onyx tilted windows seen from the interior, Photographed byJavier Villasuso, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 12b: Photograph of tilted windows seen from the exterior facade, Javier Villasuso, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 13: Photograph of workshop with local residents as part of the education program included in the CMP, 2016, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

Figure 14: Organizational chart showing the operation of the management unit of the CMP, 2017, Reproduced by permission from Ciro Caraballo.

AFTERWORD

270 - 277

Figure 1: Earthrise, photograph by NASA and William Anders, 1968.

Figure 2: Cover of the UNESCO Courier, October 1961 issue featuring the Riccardo Morandi winning proposal for saving the temples of Abu Simbel.

Figure 3: Cover of Udo Kultermann's New Architecture in Africa, 1963.

BIOGRAPHIES

Aziza Chaouni

Aziza is the principal of Aziza Chaouni Projects (ACP) based in Fez, Morocco and Toronto, Canada. Aziza was born and raised in Fez, Morocco. She is trained both as a structural engineer and as an architect, with 10 years working experience in Morocco, France, and the USA. Aziza graduated Cum Laude from Columbia University and with Distinction from Harvard Graduate School of Design. Prior to creating ACP, Aziza co-founded and ran Bureau E.A.S.T. with partner Takako Tajima. Her work has won several top design Awards and Recognitions including the Holcim Gold Award for Sustainable Construction in 2009, and has been published and exhibited widely. Aziza is also an Associate Professor at the Daniels School of Architecture Landscape and Design, where she leads the Designing Ecological Tourism lab. In 2007, Chaouni co-founded DOCOMOMO Morocco in with the late Mohammed El Hariri. Chaouni has rehabilitated several heritage buildings, including the Qarawiyine library, the oldest library in the Middle East. She’s responsible for the Sidi Harazem Thermal Bath Complex CMP, supported by KIM.

Sheridan Burke

Sheridan is trained in urban planning, architecture, education and tourism management and currently works professionally as a heritage consultant in private practice, based in Sydney, Australia. She has worked in both government and the private sector on policy, training and management projects. She has a specialist interest in twentieth century heritage and heritage management planning and is the author and leader of teams preparing innovative conservation management planning documents. Sheridan teaches and publishes widely; and is an expert member of the Sydney Opera House Conservation Council; and its Eminent Architects Panel. She has been appointed to a range of Independent Planning Panels and is an Adjunct Professor at the University of Canberra, She is currently an ICOMOS Scientific Council Officer and Secretary Ge-neral of the Twentieth Century Heritage International Scientific Committee. She was awarded Australia ICOMOS honorary membership in 2015.

Ciro Caraballo

Ciro Caraballo holds a PhD in Architecture from the Universidad Central in Venezuela (2010), a Master’s degree in Heritage and Tourism (1990), and a Bachelor’s degree in History (1985). From 1998-2011, he was a heritage management consultant for UNESCO Local Offices in Mexico, Peru, and Ecuador. Since 2016, he has been a full time professor at the Escuela Nacional de Conservación, Restauración y Museología in México. He completed the KIM supported Conservation and Management Plan for the Atlantida Church, in Uruguay.

Mohamed Elshahed

Mohamed Elshahed is a curator, critic, and architectural historian focusing on modernism in Egypt and the Arab World. He is the author of Cairo Since 1900: An Architectural Guide, winner of a 2021 Egypt State Award, the first substantive survey of modern architecture in Egypt’s capital spanning 226 sites. He holds a Masters from MIT’s Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture and a PhD from NYU’s Department of Middle Eastern Studies. His work spans architecture, design and material culture. He is the curator of the British Museum’s Modern Egypt Project and Egypt’s winning pavilion, Modernist Indignation, at the 2018 London Design Biennale. In 2019 Apollo Magazine named him among the 40 under 40 influential thinkers and artists in the Middle East. In 2011 he founded Cairobserver to stimulate public debates around issues of architecture, heritage and urbanism in the region. He is the curator of Cairo Modern at the Center for Architecture in New York, October 2021.

Maya Hmeidan

Maya holds an MA degree in Heritage Management from Leicester University, UK and another MA in Archaeology from the Lebanese University. Hmeidan is currently the technical project coordinator for the UNESCO Documentation and Advisory Services project (UDAS project) at the UNESCO regional office in Beirut, dealing with the surface and structural conservation intervention in Baalbek and Tyre World Heritage Sites. She also has an assistant professor position at NDU (Notre Dame University - Louaizé) Architecture Department where she animates two seminars for architecture students. The first one is focused on the History of Architecture and the second one deal with traditional Lebanese Architecture, its evolution and the issues related to its conservation from a heritage valuation perspective. Hmeidan is responsible for the Tripoli Fair CMP in Lebanon awarded by KIM.

Shikha Jain

Shikha has vast experience in cultural heritage of India that ranges from steering conservation projects for various state governments in India to preparing conservation plans funded by international organizations such as the Getty Foundation, World Monuments Fund and advising the Archaeological Survey of India on World Heritage. She represented India as a Cultural Heritage expert and steered all matters related to World Heritage as Member Secretary, Advisory Committee on World Heritage to the Ministry of Culture during India’s term in the World Heritage Committee from 2011-2015. As an international expert, she has advised the National Heritage Board, Singapore and is currently involved as an expert with World Heritage nominations for Myanmar and Malaysia. She graduated in architecture from the School of Planning and Architecture (SPA), Delhi followed by a Masters in Architecture from the Kansas State University, USA. She has authored publications on cultural heritage and, is the Chief Editor of the refereed Journal ‘Context: Built, Living and Natural’ published by DRONAH. As Director, DRONAH, she has lead more than 50 conservation and museum planning projects across India in last decade.

Rodrigo Sáinz Lara

Rodrigo is a Mexican Architect with a masters in conservation of built cultural heritage by Mexico’s national school of conservation, restoration and museography. He has worked on community driven design processes in collaboration with the university of Chiba in Japan and evaluating the implementation of sustainable development goals in Mexican World Heritage Cities with UNESCO Mexico. He currently works in the México’s World Heritage Office at the National Institute of Anthropology and History as the chief of the technical support department where his taken part in teams working in creating and updating conservation management plans for a variety of sites.

Ayşen Savaş

Bekim Ramku

Bekim is an architect and urban designer from Kosovo. He is the Director of Kosovo Architecture Foundation/Festival, Chair of DOCOMOMO Kosovo and Regional Coordinator to the Aga Khan Award for Architecture in the Balkans. Ramku was educated at Prishtina University, AA School of Architecture and MIT. He is responsible for the National Library of Kosovo CMP, awarded by KIM.

Aysen is an architect at METU Department of Architecture and Bartlett School of Architecture. She received her PhD from the History, Theory, and Criticism Program at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T 1994). She divides her work time between research, teaching, scientific writing, editorial work, museum consultancy, and exhibition design. Her research is focused mainly on representation, history and theory, conservation, and the expanded field of architectural culture. Among her many activities, Savas is currently involved in a number of international scientific and research collaborations, including work with TUDelft, Cornell University, McGill University, Doha Museum Association, and ICOM. She is responsible for the Faculty of Architecture Building CMP (Middle East Technical University) in Ankara, awarded by KIM.