a
Call for the
Architectural
FREEDOM to
SPEAK! by
Jakub Aleksander Ryng
S
ince its conception almost 70 years ago, the bureaucracy of European Union (along with all its varied progenitors) has left a remarkable physical imprint upon the built fabric of the continent and its cities. Decades of development and proliferation of European institutions and new member states, have left us with a mind-boggling panoply of buildings to house the swelling organisation. There is the Court in Luxembourg, the Bank in Frankfurt, the travelling Parliament with seats in both Strasbourg and Brussels – the latter city also being host to the EU’s Commission and Council. And yet, it is fair to say that despite the great efforts to publicize such buildings, the average European would be hard-pressed to identify – let alone, identify with, any one of them. If ever one wanted to validate some of the populist caricatures of the EU as a dehumanised and overblown bureaucracy, irreverent about its past, and lacking clear ambitions for the future, one need search no further than its architecture. Heavy, severe, often intimidating, the European palaces are ultimately mute and sterile, falling back on the comfortable detachment of corporate modernism at its most banal and anodyne. Since they often seek to represent or communicate nothing, any appearance of a particular Brussels façade on TV is typically accompanied by a whole bouquet of flags in the foreground – be it national or of the EU – something completely unnecessary in the political edifices of the past. A Union Jack is not required to place the Palace of Westminster in London, nor is the U.S. Flag in front of Washington’s Capitol. Elsewhere, the mumbling architect behind the schemes might try desperately to grasp at some time-worn metaphors in order to justify his aesthetic choices. Thus, for example, he turns to the first law of institutional modernism, crudely equating the lofty ideals of administrative and governmental transparency with “glass everywhere”. All is lost anyway, as almost overnight, the “glowing lanterns” or “crystal palaces” of the drawing boards become “space eggs” and “glass cages” in the popular press, as they are swiftly and rightfully decried for the hollowness of their alleged meaning. In this tragic spiral of regression, buildings are thus reduced to logos, just as logos are to buildings. In spite of all the talk, no one appears to be saying anything at all.
The solution to this needs not to be overly elaborate or overthought, but it ought to be radical. Plenty of clues can be gleaned from Europe’s proud architectural canons and urban traditions, which the modernist establishment tends to dismiss with so much scorn. From the votive temples on the Athenian Acropolis, or the glittering façade of St. Mark’s Basilica, to the regal residence at Fontainebleau, classical buildings the continent over are all engaged in an Architecture Parlante, embodying the values and channelling the stories of the individuals or societies who commissioned them. While the scale and pomposity of 19th century nationalist monuments can hardly be replicated for the purposes of the European Project today, given the obvious imperialist connotations it would entail, it is argued that a softened, Republican language of classical and figurative forms be rediscovered to reconnect the beleaguered bureaucracy not only with the ordinary European, but also its own raisond’etre. As such, the polemical proposal consists of an architectural and figurative design for a new embassy of the European Union to the United Kingdom (which might become a necessity following the implementation of Brexit). The building style borrows heavily and unashamedly from the European architectures of the past, which I believe still hold great value and meaning for the great majority of European citizens. A strong sense of asymmetry and syncopated rhythms on the elevations attempt to ward off any potential pretensions to monumentality. Integral to the architecture is a whole narrative programme of allegorical and figurative sculpture, which tries to convey elements of the European Union’s history and its founding principles. Thus, for example, the 35-meters tall engaged column, based on that built by Emperor Trajan, chronicles the centuries of conflict fought between EU member states from 1600 up until the Union’s establishment. The vile brutalities of war depicted on the spiralling relief are placed centre-stage in the public realm for all Londoners to see. Elsewhere, the four freedoms of the Single Market are personified in four different characters borrowed from Classical mythology. A similar allegorical treatment is given to the six Fundamental Rights of European Citizens. In giving the architectural and symbolic elements of the building a coherent, unified form, the project is a rallying call architects and the European Elites to recover from the numb, paralysing - possibly fatal lethargy of mute modernism and let architecture do what it does best – speak.