Defining a Gallery by Mufaddal Nagree

Defining a Gallery The New Art Gallery, Walsall

Mufaddal Nagree, K1130963 AR6001 Reading Architecture Degree Dissertation Kingston University January 2014

Table of Contents Introduction

Promenade Architecturale

Architecture of Emotional Capacity

A Landmark within a Landscape

Construction: the Anatomy of Space

Defining a Gallery: Spatial Imperative vs. White Cube

Conclusion

Drawings

Appendix

Illustration Credits

Bibliography

Introduction Caruso St. John is one of the leading and successful practices in the UK and one of the reasons is the question of context in their projects. The practice focuses on physical, cultural, historical and typological context in their works and therefore does not adopt a ‘signature’ or a certain identity in their projects as opposed to popular contemporary architects like Zaha Hadid or Foster. The aim is to yield information of the site and building type, and relate it to constructional logic to achieve the architectural intentions1. Rod Heyes describes this approach as writing poetry, where one needs language and words as tools to achieve poetic content and the tools for achieving poetry in buildings are materials and methods of building.2 The New Art Gallery in Walsall by Caruso St. John stands as a prominent building to house a significant collection of art work donated to Walsall; the Garman Ryan collection. As perceived by the former director, P. Jenkinson, the gallery presents itself “almost like a town in its own right, with the citizens visibly exercising their right to participate in the life of the community and in the story of art and architecture.”3 The architects have arguably managed to consider the cultural context of the building and somewhat engage the public with different spaces and programs across the building. The gallery is being used as a civic building where the spaces become more informal suggesting significance of society, “community life, aspiration and communication” 4. The aim of this dissertation is to analyse in depth some of the subjects of interest that Caruso St John examine, and how and to what extent their ethos relates back to the New Art Gallery, Walsall. From the account of the experience of the promenade architecturale to the architects’ attitudes towards architecture; to the setting of the building in its context and the response to the brief; to the constructional logic of it and the attempt to redefine the image of public galleries with reference to possible precedents and later gallery work triggered by the New Art Gallery; the intent of these thematic chapters is to provide a thorough understanding of the building with reference to the architects’ theoretical discourses.

R. Heyes, Interview with Rod Heyes. Interviewed by M. Nagree; S. Turek; R. Sondergaard, Caruso St John, 1 Coate Street, London, (18th November 2011), Appendix R. Heyes, Appendix 3 P. Jenkinson, ‘Getting Under Walsall’s Skin’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p.37 4 P. Jenkinson, ‘Getting Under Walsall’s Skin’, p.37 2

Fig. 1

Fig. 2

Promenade Architecturale As you exit the station and walk through the Station View pathway, on the right the New Art Gallery begins to reveal itself at the end of a street of brick buildings (Fig. 1). Walking further down one is allured to the public square space and feels the presence of the building with people walking past it and entering the shopping streets. The cutaway section reduces the mass and intimidation of the structure, already starting to suggest its house-like characteristics. Across the public square, the Dwarf Pub (Fig.2) by Herzog de Meuron and the Costa café are noticed; facing barges floating on a canal that narrows away into the horizon. The grand glazed entrance (Fig. 3) is expressed by a steel frame which leads the eye to the overhanging concrete ribbed ceiling continuing across the interior, reminiscent of medieval joists. The reception area is a wholesome space where the themes of walls, ceilings and windows are introduced. The walls are lined with fir boards halfway and the rest is bare, board-marked concrete. A generous window (Fig. 4) is situated at the highest level that, with the help of the glazed entrance, floods this space with natural light. As the journey upward begins, it seems apparent that there exists a notion of elevation and verticality, for every lining on the surface is vertical; reminiscent of the vertical mass of the building. The ambiguous picture frame-like windows hung on the terracotta-clad façade begin to unfold their characteristics from the interior as you step onto the landing which opens up a view towards the canal and up to the corridor that leads to gallery spaces. Another window at the end of the corridor is generous in scale, full height, with modest views of the neighbouring commercial buildings and people making their way through everyday life. The heart of the building, where the Garman Ryan collection boasts the ownership of this ‘house’, is crafted into an extraordinary space by the architects. Grand, but not too grand, open but not too open. This is achieved by a domestic staircase leading to the next level of the building forming a gallery that overlooks the Garman Ryan but also divides itself into smaller rooms of gallery spaces (Figs. 6, 7). The space under this gallery floor is a protrusion of the full height space to bring the scale back down, which then opens up to another floor-level window showing us more of Walsall (Fig. 5). Even though the rooms have identical wall linings, ceilings and floors, each room has its own identity, a personality, almost like individual bedrooms in a home, opening up to different views of Walsall. The third level gallery is a lofty space, with the top edge of the walls perforated with translucent openings letting through plenty of natural light and a recurring gesture of placing another window to frame the streets of Walsall and beyond. The ceiling is exposed; reminding us of the ‘rib’ of this building. There comes an end to this journey of elevation with the last floor; a tower and terrace. Originally meant to be a restaurant allowing visitors to replenish themselves before they make their way back down, is now unfortunately altered to a gallery space. Imagining the restaurant still existed, this space is an exemplar of architecture of ‘spatial imperative’ as Caruso would put it. With massive openings to views of the whole of Walsall this time, this is a space for dialogue and contemplation, and this is where the theme of lining, walls and windows become most apparent and exciting (Fig. 8,9). It’s almost as if the architects expect the visitor to notice the fir board lining and the grain of its imitation on the rest of the bare concrete which eventually leads the eye to another grand opening above, making the space much light-hearted than it could have been (Fig. 10). Taking the lift to experience the journey back down was probably the right decision. The lift is glazed, facing the canal side, a cool and calm view, a view that triggers reflection and contemplation on the promenade architecturale of the New Art Gallery, Walsall.

Fig. 3

Fig. 4 9

Fig. 5

Fig. 6

Fig. 7 10

Fig. 9

Fig. 8

Fig. 10

Architecture of Emotional Capacity Raised in the 1960s, both Adam Caruso and Peter St John grew up in a different time frame compared to their fellow architects. Both of them studied architecture in the 1980s when post-modernism had begun to make its mark and therefore studies in history had become more significant than it had been before5; when architects were subject to innovate and substantiate progressiveness. Their childhood was spent in growth and economic boom as opposed to tragedy or aftermaths of wars. Their projects do not reflect ‘historical sadness’ like other modernist architects for example Mies van der Rohe, the Smithsons and Koolhaas – “…not founded on a collective experience of tragedy but rather on the experience of endless possibilities, economic growth and technological progress.” 6. Both worked for Florian Beigel, an inspirational architect who ran a studio at the London Metropolitan University (Formerly North London Polytechnic) where they began to understand their paths and realised a sense of direction towards their careers. They worked for Arup Associates, where they first met and eventually decided to set up their own practice in partnership in 1990. At the time Caruso St John began their practice in the nineties, post-modernism was fading away and the movement of neomodernism hadn’t begun yet – “it was an interesting threshold period”7. The practice began when Britain was in a recession and “London seemed quite still and somewhat broken.” 8 Caruso explains that “rejection of modern trope” is one of the factors that influence their work and amongst the underdeveloped areas and unfilled sites in the nineties, their projects had the traits of the picturesque; as the “romantic melancholy of it all was very attractive and had its own energy.” Their earlier work until Walsall is described as “elegant cheapness” by Aureli that somewhat echoes the Smithsons’ work for example the Upper Lawn Pavilion in Wiltshire; which is “also a kind of rejection or polemic against high-tech which at the time was reaching its peak”9 (Fig. 11). On the other hand, their more recent work is perceived as more solid and monumental and an attempt to stop urban space. However, St John argues that the ‘urban stoppage’ has always been part of the work. Complexity, ambiguity, pluralism and the composition of picturesque are all notions that are rigorously studied by the architects. And this perhaps derives from a library of seminal art and architecture they closely observe, analyse, question and eventually take inspiration from. Names like Adolf Loos, Semper, Michelangelo, Soane, Owen Jones and Lewerentz are some of the few that are mentioned frequently in conversations with Caruso and St John. They also often refer to radical texts for example The Theory of Cladding by Loos, Grammar of Ornament by Owen Jones and writing by the Smithsons. They engage in intellectual conversations and allow room for arguments on issues which make their architecture more interesting than that of the usual architect. What is even more striking in Caruso St John’s approach towards architecture is that they intend to relate their ideas, concepts and theories back to practicality and the realities of everyday life as opposed to abstractions and diagrams. Their projects ‘”help us to make our senses more sober”10, as Ursprung puts it, with reference to capitalism and the deep philosophy of ‘all that is solid melts into air’. Since the start of their practice in 1990 they have been showing certain sensitivity towards architecture; that which engages thoroughly with immediate context as well as influences from wider agendas. A lot of their work asserts gravity to economic and political situations and they develop their ethos by thoroughly discussing the forces of globalization and capitalization11. Their work is more about the ambience they create in the paths, movements and elevations rather than “hierarchical organization of corporate power”12 and these ideas are inconspicuously clear in some of their celebrated projects like the Brick House in London and the New Art Gallery in Walsall. The contrast between the picturesque and sublime, and how they can be defined in contemporary architecture, is also a popular discourse in the practice. They focus more on the picturesque notion, where details and composition are of significance. The ‘sublime’ in earlier centuries was found in nature, and now it’s found in ‘big science’, technology and capitalization13. They avoid the rhetoric of ‘smooth space’ as seen in the works of the likes of Zaha Hadid and Foster, who often reflect interest in the ‘sublime’ – ‘the aesthetic interest in phenomena’ – an architecture that looks ‘cool’ and can be framed. The objective is to go against this kind of architecture; that of an iconic image, or a signature. One can argue that Caruso St John’s buildings do not hold a sense of aesthetic identity but rather they practice a range of design approaches; each building to their own, unique in its own way. 5

A. Caruso, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, El Croquis Journal, (No.166: 2013), p. 11 P. Ursprung, Caruso St John : Almost Everything, (Barcelona : Ediciones Poligrafa, 2008), p.76 P. Aureli, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, p. 21 8 P. St John, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, p. 11 9 P. Aureli, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, p. 11 10 P. Ursprung, p.12 11 P. Ursprung, p.12 12 P. Ursprung, p.12 13 P. Ursprung, p.14 6 7

Fig. 11 Left - Upper L wn Pavilion by A&P Smithsons Photo from Seier & Seier Right - North London Studio House by Caruso St John Photo from Caruso St John

Fig. 12

Caruso attempts to define ‘environment’ in architecture as the practice understands it. The generic definition of environment in architecture; the “amount of energy embodied in the material production of buildings”, is considered too narrow14. Environment should be perceived as a ‘territory’ where energy and culture are linked together – “something that can encompass human endeavour as well as matter.”15 Whereas contemporary practice is quite a lot about ‘green’ architecture to establish and expand the branding of architects, where heat loss calculations and ‘efficiency’ are a priority, Caruso St John is more interested in an architecture that imagines an environment that “holds the emotions of a place and the significance of human endeavour” 16. Being an architect in the past was being an expert in every aspect of the field including the knowledge of history of architectural form as well as building long lasting structures. Caruso argues that this sort of formality and intellect, the idea of ‘erudition’ and ‘connoisseur’ today has been precluded.17 This is due to the increasing specialisation and division of labour, the architect has lost his purpose and turned to more of the managerial side of building. With resistance to these issues, the practice is rather interested in the emotional value of the buildings. This emotional value arises from interest in the process of building in the past and how contemporary construction practice can achieve “an equivalent formal and material presence” 18. Methods of representation further accentuate their approach towards architecture. They practice the exact opposite of the norm of “no time or money for details” 19 giving weight to every fragment that makes up their picturesque architecture. Their representation techniques ultimately reflect their rigorousness and thoroughness in their projects. Ursprung describes this expression as “Poetic Realism”20 – where realism is thought to mean the representation of labour. Although in history showing people at work in factories was considered a taboo, it is allowed to do so in the modern age. Caruso St John’s approach is to consider people and people at work in their design process and decision making, and likewise are also interested in the production process of those elements designed for people. Their drawings as a result, are highly detailed, which makes them more interested in “how a window works, or how a layer of bricks meet the floor, than in speculating about the overall appearances.”21 Their visualisations usually differentiate elements in terms of importance and always include collages of people at work, as part of daily life, as opposed to figures walking around randomly, to give a more real and practical sense of the space. This is evident in the presentation for the architects’ proposal named ‘The Big House’ for the New Art Gallery and it is clear that the section is more important than the plan, showing people inhabiting the space as they would be, with a touch of a bizarre giant-like figure in the cafeteria space (Fig. 12).

A. Caruso, ‘Energy and Matter’, The Feeling of Things, (Ediciones Polígrafa, 2008), p. 15 A. Caruso, ‘Energy and Matter’, p. 15 16 A. Caruso, ‘Energy and Matter’, p. 19 17 A. Caruso, ‘Traditions’, The Feeling of Things, (Ediciones Polígrafa, 2008), p. 24 18 A. Caruso, ‘Traditions’, p. 25 19 P. Ursprung, p. 76 20 P. Ursprung, p. 76 21 P. Ursprung, p. 76 15

Fig. 13

A Landmark within a Landscape Being part of the ‘Black Country’ in the West Midlands and being predominantly an industrial town, Walsall has certainly not been undermined in the design approach, process and every little detail of the award-winning New Art Gallery. For years Walsall has served Britain in extracting and manufacturing raw materials and still remains significant today for its leather manufacturing goods for the Royal family. The town saw little development in the past due to lack of public funding and for this reason the town has a gritty nature; one which expresses years of skill and effort, mass production and waste, and the severance of the wealthy and the deprived22. Amongst these memories stands tall and fortuitous, the New Art Gallery, what seems like a new hope, with respect to the past, for the town and its people; “like a beacon on the shore, surrounded on three sides by this great lake of coal and melancholy.”23 To the client it was important that “the first impressions matter” 24 and Caruso St John makes no mistake in doing so. The brief was to design not merely an art gallery, but a building that “should represent excellence”25 and is a “model of accessibility”26. It was to design a new home for the Garman Ryan collection – a significant private collection that was donated to the town of Walsall and one that perhaps stood as a ‘landmark’ in Walsall’s art community. The historical significance and cherished nature of this collection stimulated interests in the origin of galleries and the architects occupied themselves in studies of the English house and its domestic spaces 27 and how they can be transformed into successful civic spaces that ‘house’ the aspirational support programs with the Garman Ryan collection. Context was important, whether cultural, political, physical or historical, to both the client and architect. The initial proposals had already established the notion of engaging the region of Walsall and its people, the notion of elevation and circulation, of light and views, and of public and private spaces. The architect and client celebrated the proposed retail schemes next to the gallery and enjoyed the fact that “you could pop in to both store and gallery for a bit of pick ‘n’ mix”28 allowing the gallery to blend in everyday life. In the course of the design process, Caruso St John also engaged in public and gallery staff consultation workshops from which the results were fed into the brief 29. As a result, the New Art Gallery stands as a communal landmark which houses Walsall’s artistic landmark; the Garman Ryan Collection. And these two landmarks, so to speak, strongly engage with the context, reflecting upon the deprivation Walsall has seen and attempting to tell a prosperous future for Walsall and the society within. Walsall’s early geography has been described as a ‘human figure’; head resting on the hill upon which St Mathew’s stands, arms reaching out to the Bridge and feet lying at the edge of Park Street 30. The only landmark in this silent landscape before the gallery was built, would have been the tower of St. Mathew’s Church (Fig. 13). The junction of Park and Marsh Street, or rather the ‘feet’ is where the New Art Gallery rises with a powerful presence and solidarity. In a town where the ‘good’ things; education, wealth, industry and development, appeared to be deteriorating and vanishing over time, the New Art Gallery was to establish a visual relationship with the parish church and was to stand as a civic and elevated building31. The scale of the building is large and bold and yet blends in well. It is of similar scale to St. Mathew’s tower, yet it does not take over the significance of this heritage; it is sympathetic to it. It does not appear too strong or too light in context; a result from careful considerations of volume, symmetry and tectonic character. “Ultimately construction is about appearance”32 and therefore the choice of cladding material and its scale and colour responds and correlates to local conditions. Terracotta, a clay-based material, like brick, with the choice of its colour and tone relating to the stone of the public buildings in the town, was chosen in a range of shades to break down visual strength and “excessive monotony”33, arranged in a random pattern – “It was important that the building should stand out from its surroundings but also resonate with this particular material situation”34. The tiles of the cladding are heavier and bigger than what they seem from distance due to the generous volume of the building and due to the subtle angle that they are placed at; they have a “delicate character”35 and appear to be like “feathers of a bird”36. The volume further attempts to avoid overbearing the overall context by the protrusion of the tower and the cutting away of the corner beneath it to create a dialogue between public and private 22

I. Scalbert, ‘The New Art Gallery and its geography’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p. 40 I. Scalbert, p. 43 I. Scalbert, p. 51 25 P. Jenkinson, p. 35 26 P. Jenkinson, p. 35 27 P. Jenkinson, p. 36 28 P. Jenkinson, p. 36 29 R. Moore, ‘A Pebble on Water’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p.67 30 I. Scalbert, p. 41 31 I. Scalbert, p. 49 32 P. St John, ‘The Feeling of Things: Towards an Architecture of Emotions’, Shaping Earth (Wolverhampton: MN Associates and University of Wolverhampton, 2000) pp.78–81; <http://www.carusostjohn.com/text/towards-an-architecture-of-emotions> 33 R. Moore, p. 67 34 P. St John, ‘The Feeling of Things: Towards an Architecture of Emotions’ 35 P. St John, ‘The Feeling of Things: Towards an Architecture of Emotions’ 36 P. St John, ‘The Feeling of Things: Towards an Architecture of Emotions’ 23 24

Fig. 14

Fig. 15

spaces (Fig 14). The windows are not just openings but resemble hung picture frames on the facade flush with the cladding, which actually frame views of Walsall and its story of de-industrialisation. The framed views appear to be transformed into images with aligned art work; the views being given equal importance to the art work within those spaces. The gallery’s intentions are not that of a bright sculptural piece dropped onto the edge of a city. Nor are they of intimidating its surroundings to make apparent its monumental presence 37. It is rather intended to reveal itself in the landscape as a meaningful landmark for the community of Walsall (Fig. 15). Its aim is to sit quietly, yet loud and clear in the context of the smooth deep red brick of the Midlands, echoing local buildings such as local warehouses and factories with their proud chimneys, the town hall and St Mathew’s. Like various projects by Caruso St John, there exists interplay between the dense volumetric; which can be appreciated in the distance, and the awe striking detail of the building fabric in proximity38. As observed by the architects, a lot of their work is related to Islamic architecture because of the basic volumes with highly decorated surfaces 39, and this institutional quality can arguably be observed in the New Art Gallery. The building is positioned on the axis of the canal which seemed the most permanent feature by the site 40 and creates a dialogue with the public square front, creating spectacular views to and from the gallery, and a notion of connectivity as the canal reaches axially to both the horizon and the gallery. The articulation of the physical appearance is not meant to suggest a signature and an iconic ‘image’ in the town but rather focuses on the notions of a psychological image that “respects and remembers”41 the story of its surroundings, resulting in “no discontinuity between the inside and outside”42. The New Art Gallery is an aspirational landmark within an inspirational landscape.

P. Ursprung, p. 230 P. Vermeulen; P. St John; A. Caruso, ‘A Conversation with Adam Caruso and Peter St John’, Knitting weaving wrapping pressing, (Birkhauser-publishers for architecture, 2000), p. 82 39 P. Vermeulen, p. 82 40 I. Scalbert, p. 50 41 P. Ursprung, p. 230 42 P. Ursprung, p. 231 38

Fig. 16

Construction: the Anatomy of Space “A completely internalised, synthetic way of working where issues of construction and thematic content become one.” – Adam Caruso on Lewerentz Adolf Loos’ Principle of Cladding are one of the seminal texts often discussed and referred to by Caruso St John. The principle of cladding argues the very definition of cladding and how it is conceived by commercial architects. According to Loos, the role of the ‘true’ architect is to establish an ambience and character of a space, which is primary, and designing its “construction is the architect’s second task.”43 Gravity is asserted towards the resistance of the ‘empirical route’ to architecture, which in essence is commercialised capitalised architecture that Caruso and St John often mention. He expresses dispute to the dominance of “imitation and substitute materials” 44 and establishes a generic law of cladding: “there should be no possibility of confusing the cladding with the material it covers.”45 Examples of some of these imitations are stated as part of the argument including the idea of casting or sculpting plaster in any form but brickwork or fireclay blocks attempting to imitate carpets. In an echoing manner to Loos’ theory, Caruso talks about the existence of construction and its importance in the expression of architecture. He argues how the post-industrialisation era has allowed architects to explore and experiment, “like toddlers chaotically exploring their new upright world”, where “anything goes and everything is possible.”46 He continues to argue that innovation in material and methods of production “cannot lead directly to a new architecture.” The consideration of culture is as important as the process of production and these two work together to form radical and novel movements. With reference to the Principle of Cladding Caruso argues how Britain subscribes to exactly what not to do in the essay 47; whereas the practice is more concerned about the character of the room and develops structural systems that allow that character to be felt. As well as subscribing to Loos’ position, the wall is also a matter to consider, and how they can realise the spatial imperative by designing a construction that is responsive and complimentary to it – “we have hardly ever done projects that have columns; we always do projects that have walls, because walls can play a role in making the character of the space. So in Walsall, all the walls that you see, structural walls, are cast, and that is not the normal way of building in Britain, but it was important to us that the structure was making space.” 48 The notion of surface and wall is important. They treat material as a surface rather than a solid structure – “it is more about the pictorial inscription than about tectonic solidity.” For them space is ‘performed’ rather than ‘framed’ 49. This is a result of their attitude towards technical expression in architecture; which is rather ambivalent. Caruso responds to this question of handling of material and structure as “a powerful way of making space.”50 He explains how this logic could have derived from the modernist’s idea of composition and technique being parallel narratives in designing a building. With reference to Le Corbusier’s separation of progressive composition and technique, perhaps their interests lie in the interplay of both. The opposite ends of industrial and vernacular architecture, both are ingenuous and powerful because they are built with a restricted but deeply understood technology. These structures also have a certain cultural heritage and Caruso St John are more interested in the “dynamic bet between construction and the experience of construction.”51 They aim to be very specific and careful about material and constructional choices (due to endless possibilities in today’s world) as that may be a completely aesthetic endeavour: “Alongside attempts to make architecture that closely tracks the contemporary neo-liberal mainstream are more deliberate efforts at a slower and more careful production – an architecture that takes full advantage of the unprecedented separation of construction from technical limitations and rhetorical discourses. This difficult work attempts new kinds of material spatial conditions that take full advantage of the idea of construction as an aesthetic judgement.” 52 Talking about the remains of the Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire, Caruso acknowledges the source of building material from local quarries and stresses importance on the historical processes of building – “the ruined state of the building serves to exaggerate the presence of material.”53 He talks about how the absence of inhabitation and interior finishing allows one to identify the ‘logic’ 43

A. Loos, ‘Principle of Cladding’, Caruso St John : Almost Everything, (Barcelona : Ediciones Poligrafa, 2008), p. 97 A. Loos, ‘Principle of Cladding’, p. 97 45 A. Loos, ‘Principle of Cladding’, p. 97 46 P. Vermeulen, p. 6 47 P. Vermeulen, p. 76 48 P. Vermeulen, p. 76 49 P. Ursprung, p. 76 50 P. Vermeulen, p. 74 51 P. Vermeulen, p. 74 52 A. Caruso, ‘Towards an Ontology of Construction’, Knitting weaving wrapping pressing, (Birkhauser-publishers for architecture, 2000), p. 6 53 A. Caruso, ‘Towards an Ontology of Construction’, p. 6 44

Fig. 17

of the arches that form regular intervals letting strong patterns of light into the nave and the “rigorous pattern of buttresses and relieving arches” that form an effective load-bearing structural system. This observation shows his interests in the exposure of the constructional logic of a building and to accentuate their architecture by this means, as opposed to finishes and furnishing. This concept of ‘construction as an aesthetic judgement’ is perhaps realised by the rigorousness of the wall; the vertical plane, and less with the horizontal plane; the ‘plan libre’ 54. The theme in most projects is about the surfaces, both exterior and interior which enhance the character of the spaces. Even in Walsall where columns had to be used, eventually the wall became the theme – “even if you don’t see whether a wall is load-bearing or not, you understand that the conceptual unit is the wall.” 55 They work on the notion of the room having its character by its surfaces and from there they develop the linings of the wall and the cladding, with a thorough reflection on Loos’ theory as mentioned earlier – “Some architects worry about what is inside the wall, which you do not see, and I’ve often said that’s a perfect description of a high-tech architect. But if you are a real architect, you worry about the things that you hang on the wall, because that is what gives the space its character.” 56 The tectonic strategy at Walsall reflects the architects’ aspirations towards the interplay of construction and space. In a gross area of approximately 5200m2 the primary structure of the gallery is entirely composed of a mixture of in-situ and cast reinforced concrete.57 The ground floor being entirely column-free, ribbed floors are supported by internal and perimeter walls, and concrete framing with perimeter walls are used in upper levels (Fig. 16). The exterior is fully clad; in terracotta tiles (Fig. 17), with the exception of stainless steel between ground and first floors and on one face of the tower which extrudes above roof level on the northeast corner. The interior walls are lined with Douglas fir boards which typically stop at a certain height to reveal a boardmarked concrete finish of the same timber. The board-marked finish tends to give the illusion that the in situ walls were poured into the linings which were then peeled back to reveal the texture. The large rectangular gallery spaces with exposed concrete ceilings suggested the precast ribbed floor, which complemented the analogy of timber joists in Victorian architecture.58 As mentioned earlier, structural logic is questioned by the practice to achieve the desired spatial character and therefore the depth of the ribbed floors relates to the floor to ceiling height of the space below as opposed to the loading and span of the floor.

P. Aureli, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, p. 9 A. Caruso, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, p. 9 56 A. Caruso, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, p. 9 57 K. Holden; C. Jackson; J. Shaw, ‘Walsall Art Gallery’, The ARUP Journal, (No. 2: 2000), p. 34 58 K. Holden; C. Jackson; J. Shaw, p. 34 55

Fig. 18

Fig. 19

Fig. 20

Defining a Gallery: Spatial Imperative vs. White Cube The ‘white cube’ can be defined as today’s dominant display system in the gallery world, which originates from the beginnings of Modernism. Modernism was a movement where a lot was associated to ‘progressive’ ideas and a period in time where development of structures was radically fast. Likewise, Brian O’doherty describes Modernism as a point in time or history where space is seen first followed by art.59 He states, “as modernism gets older, context becomes content” and “the object introduced into the gallery ‘frames’ the gallery and its laws.”60 He then compares the rigorousness of the principles of building a gallery to that of building a medieval church – sealed windows, plastered walls and lit ceilings, wooden or carpeted floor finishes. And this alienation has an effect on discreet objects within gallery spaces such that they almost become a piece of artwork. “Transposition of perception from life to formal values” 61 – that is modernism. Modernist art is described as art that exists in an “eternity of display”62 and that time is not important. The ideology of the white cube is to create this poetic notion of separating the eyes and minds of observers from their physical bodies. The gallery is defined as a place with a wall which is occupied by a wall of art work – “the wall has no intrinsic aesthetic”63; a perception that Caruso St John tends to question. On a similar level, Ursprung argues that the origins of the white cube lie in the transformation of an industrial loft to a whitened exhibition space for contemporary art in the 1950s – “the traces of the past are erased, and the space of production is transformed into a space of consumption.”64 Whitened interiors have become a standard for both private galleries and museums as well as shops and studios. Caruso St John examines this notion of the white cube carefully to provide an alternative to this stereotype. The Walsall art gallery raises a question whether public museum galleries should look like private galleries or museums65. The architects address the ideology of the white cube spaces and those that provide a rich spatial imperative with reference to O’doherty’s theory. The development of the Walsall project can be referenced to several buildings the architects may have examined. One of them is Castle Drogo; a modern castle. The themes of context, monumental presence and the interplay of interior and exterior spaces are apparent at Luyten’s Castle Drogo, which is no different from the New Art Gallery. Both buildings serve as an expression of grandeur in their own right. Approaching the west front of Castle Drogo the architect's purpose becomes apparent; walls made of solid granite, up to 1.8 metres thick66, as the Castle sits heavily within its green context (Fig. 18). Attention to detail is not undermined to compromise its purpose either; with expressions like the front turrets having jagged parapets with arrow slits and the main door with a working portcullis with a carved heraldic lion above it (Fig. 19, 20). In the context of period and movements, “there were far more contemporary architectural ideas developing in Europe” at the time (in the early 1900s) and Drogo was going against these ideas; reflecting the aforementioned attitude of Caruso St John’s approach towards architecture and modernism. The granite structure lined with oak in the interior is a similar approach of the board marked concrete and Douglas fir linings at Walsall. According to Buxton, Drogo is a baronial castle that expresses the idea of the need of a wealthy elite owning a ‘country seat’67. It was the last castle to be built in England and was commissioned by a very successful businessman, Julius Drewe, who retired at the age of 33. The aim was to establish a built ancestry and leave a mark of his legacy.68 Similarly, the New Art Gallery expresses a sense of legacy and addresses the need of Walsall having a remarkable building of quality and solidarity, yet not being too overpowering. Just like Drogo; noble, but not too noble. The Whitney Museum of American Art was founded in 1930, and opened in 1931 at Greenwich Village in New York City. In 1954 the Museum moved to an expanded site towards the west and eventually in 1963 the Bauhaus trained Marcel Breuer along with Hamilton Smith and Michael Irving, were commissioned to design the third home for the Museum northward from its original location.69 The current museum boasts its striking granite presence, creating a strong modernist statement in the city surrounded by traditional limestone, brownstone, brick row houses, and post-war apartment buildings. "Considered sombre, heavy, and even brutal at the time of its completion in 1966, Breuer’s building is now recognized as daring, strong, and innovative" 70; and several of its characteristics begin to unfold at Walsall. 59

B. O’Doherty, Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space, (University of California Press, 1986), p. 15 B. O’Doherty, p. 15 61 B. O’Doherty, p. 15 62 B. O’Doherty, p. 16 63 B. O’Doherty, p. 16 64 P. Ursprung, p. 229 65 P. Ursprung, p. 230 66S. Toth, 'A Modern Medieval Castle', The New York Times, (March 24, 1996) <http://www.nytimes.com/1996/03/24/travel/a-modern-medieval-castle.html?pagewanted=all&src=pm> (accessed November 2013) 67 P. Buxton, ‘Simon Hudspith's inspiration: Castle Drogo by Edwin Lutyens’, Building Design Online, (31 May 2012), <http://www.bdonline.co.uk/simon-hudspiths-inspiration-castle-drogoby-edwin-lutyens/5037501.article#> (accessed November 2013) 68 P. Buxton, ‘Simon Hudspith's inspiration: Castle Drogo by Edwin Lutyens’ 69 Whitney Museum of American Art, 'History of the Whitney', <http://whitney.org/About/History>, (accessed November 2013) 70 Whitney Museum of American Art, 'The Breuer Building', <http://whitney.org/About/BreuerBuilding>, (accessed November 2013) 60

Fig. 21

Fig. 22

Fig. 23

Fig. 24

Fig. 25 top - bottom Gagosian Galleries; Britannia, London Paris Rome 27

According to Ursprung the Breuer building is probably one of the only modern gallery building with its original interiors. 71 Elements like the choice of material and form are somewhat similar to that of Walsall where one is clad in granite and one in terracotta respectively and both having cut-away forms in the entrance ways (Fig. 21,22). One of the most obvious relationships between the two buildings is the choice of openings within the building. The windows in both attempt to engage the context in a unique way possessing the qualities of the aforementioned ambiguity between the exterior and interior (Fig. 23, 24). The Whitney, according to Ursprung, is probably one of the few galleries where 1960s art “can be exhibited in original interior architecture”72, escaping the neutrality of the white cube with a notable feature of the ceiling; exposed waffled slab. Similarly Caruso St John are more interested in interiors that interact with the art work to be able to experience art and architecture in the same wavelength. These ideas question the definition of a gallery space and realise the weights and differences of a private gallery and a public museum. The Walsall project in a sense set off a number of museum and private gallery projects by Caruso St John that continue the notion thread of a spatial imperative over the convenient white cube. One of the gallery projects triggered by Walsall was a series of Gagosian galleries and exhibition spaces; of these the notable ones are the one in Paris, Rome and Britannia Street, London (Fig. 25). The notion of thoughtful practice as Caruso St John often make apparent in their conversations and architectural work, “is part of the same strategy” 73 of hiring a new curator by Gagosian, M. Francis, which “creates the reassuring sense that this is a commercial gallery with civilised values.” 74 The cleaned up brick on the exterior and elegant new windows on this transformed industrial building somewhat ‘understates’ the architects’ taste. The interior is composed of a concrete floor with white walls flooded with natural light. This white appearance already starts to create a dialogue about the neutrality of the white cube and the defining contrast between a commercial gallery and that of a museum. Taking into account that the standard requirement of a commercial gallery is flexibility, the architects still manage to give these galleries a unique character75. Subtlety seemed the solution to the ‘branding’ nature of gallery architecture and this can be observed on the concrete floor – a lightly sandblasted surface as opposed to a “distractingly shiny”76 one. The gallery in Rome had the interior ‘stripped’ down to bare walls that combines with the grey Pietrasanta stone floor 77 to sustain the spatial imperative over the white cube, again, with plenty of daylight coming through. With the forces of commercialisation and the branding image of the Gagosian, Caruso St John’s resistant architecture creates “a powerful, and seductive space”78. Ten years after Walsall, a different kind, yet similar, of a landmark was needed in the city of Nottingham; one that serves as a legacy of contemporary art. Just like Walsall, it reveals itself within its urban context. The form derives from the topography of the site combined with the architectural character of the warehouse buildings in the Lace Market 79 – which reminds us the way Walsall’s mass was developed – based on the ideas of a tower-like house and the allure of a church (Fig. 26). Its green and gold attire is an interesting addition to the cityscape of Nottingham with the form of the building creating shifting perspectives from different viewpoints80. The façade, made up of precast green concrete panels with a lace pattern, is of a similar approach at Walsall. At Walsall, the choice of angled terracotta cladding in randomised tones gives the façade a shingle-like character to create a visual repetitive element and it’s almost as if the façade of Nottingham is built with the same attitude, but taking the level a notch higher, with the intricacy of the lace pattern (Fig. 27). The Victorian lace pattern, incredibly precise and beautiful, appears to be like actual lace as opposed to a print; “super-realistic and with a certain fuzziness and softness” 81. The relationship between the exterior and interior spaces also seem to derive from the attitude at Walsall. It consists of a variety of set-up spaces that are reminiscent of the domestic room-like spaces of the ‘big house’ at Walsall. The most apparent reminder of Walsall at Nottingham, is at the northernmost gallery where the exhibition space is lit by the combination of a skylight and a window to the street, facing the market – a familiar theme of views and context (Fig. 28). There exists an informality between the reception and the gallery, where the partition walls are non-structural and suggest alteration in the future.82 The interior is a mix of white and bare concrete walls with coffered ceilings and wooden floors – another strong gesture of breaking down the monotone and neutrality of the white cube. Learning from Walsall, where one would argue the domestic spaces within the tower like structure may not seem pragmatic for flexible uses, the architects seem to have answered this question of pragmatism whilst retaining their approach towards the anti-white cube notion at Nottingham. 71

P. Ursprung, p. 229 P. Ursprung, p. 229 73 Deyan Sudjic, 'Extreme makeover', The Guardian: The Observer, (May 9 2004), <http://www.theguardian.com/theobserver/2004/may/09/1?INTCMP=SRCH> (accessed November 2013) 74 D. Sudjic 75 D. Sudjic 76 D. Sudjic 77 P. Pophamin, ‘Gagosian turns to Rome for next stage of his art empire’, The Independent, (17 December 2007), <http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/gagosian-turns-torome-for-next-stage-of-his-art-empire-765483.html> (accessed November 2013) 78 D. Sudjic 79 K. Long, ‘Nottingham Contemporary art gallery by Caruso St John Architects’, Architects Journal Online, (12 November 2009), <http://www.architectsjournal.co.uk/news/dailynews/nottingham-contemporary-art-gallery-by-caruso-st-john-architects/5210778.article> (accessed November 2013) 80 K. Long 81 K. Long 82 K. Long 72

Fig. 26

Fig. 27

Fig. 28

Conclusion It is difficult to describe the work of Caruso St John in a statement or two, or to identify a Caruso St John aesthetic in an explicit manner, because that’s what they are trying not to do83. Having explored a broad range of theoretical arguments, there seems to exist a coherency in their projects; there exists a mimesis of the ideas of a proposal deriving from physical, social and cultural site context, construction as a tool for making space and the importance of facades and interiors articulated by choice of materials. Their work is more about the appropriateness, about the job itself, and this idea arrives from the 60s and 70s contemporary art where there was a distinction between art and art that was specific to a place 84. However, the most reprising attitude is the rejection of the norm; the resistance of the forces of the market. This resistance then becomes apparent in all aspects of the design process to establish a holistic approach. The New Art Gallery, Walsall, is a rigorous combination of Caruso St John’s attitudes towards architecture. Their subjects of interest, studies and analyses of precedents and architects they aspire to, reflect thoroughly in this project. The ideas of a landmark in relation to the physical, social and cultural context; of constructional logic, cladding and lining; and of breaking down the monotone of the white cube; all come together in one building. And most importantly, it successfully rejects the norm; the “modern trope” and redefines what a public gallery should be and look like. It also rejects the idea of ‘form following function’85 and the neutrality of the white cube, the horizontality of most galleries today, their spatial conditions and choice of lighting. In a town that has seen industrial dereliction and deprivation of public investment, making a civic statement was as important as other ideas. And this expression about the building playing “at a structuring and signalling role” 86 is unnatural for Caruso and St John but yet they responded to it, because “in Walsall it seemed as though one almost had a responsibility to respond to it.”87 However, despite its institutional intent, it does not forget the ambience and warmth of the origins of a gallery and its core collection, that is, a house. The New Art Gallery is indeed the perfect example of “a breath of fresh air” 88.

R. Heyes, Appendix R. Heyes, Appendix 85 R. Heyes, Appendix 86 A. Caruso, ‘Interview with Mark Francis’, The Feeling of Things, (Ediciones Polígrafa, 2008), p. 91 87 A. Caruso, ‘Interview with Mark Francis’, p. 91 88 R. Heyes, Appendix 84

Drawings

South Elevation

West Elevation

East Elevation

North Elevation

Section C-C

Section E-E

Section F-F

Section G-G

Basement plan 1. Workshop 2. Store 3. Art store 4. Plant room 41

Ground-floor plan 1. Entrance foyer 2. Cafe/Shop 3. Discovery Gallery 4. Loading 42

1st floor plan 1. Long gallery 2. Garman Ryan hall 3. Education oom 4. Arti tâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s studio 43

2nd floor plan

3rd floor plan 1. Temporary exhibition galleries

4th floor plan 1. Winter garden 2. Restaurant 3. Conference room 4. Kitchen 5. Terrace 46

Clerestory window detail left-right: Elevation and plan; section

Appendix Interview with Rod Heyes By Mufaddal Nagree; Slawomir Turek; Robin Sondergaard At Caruso St John, 1 Coate Street, London 18th November 2011 Mufaddal Nagree: What was it about Adam Caruso and Peter St John that interested you and eventually led you to work here? Rod Heyes: I met both of them when I was doing my degree where they did a little bit of teaching. At the time I kind of saw a lot of architecture where I didn’t understand the preoccupations and it didn’t feel like it engaged with the society and was a very separate discipline. The conversations and debates were about a certain kind of Italian architecture in the 60s and 70s and it seemed very odd. And then when they came to teach it was a breath of fresh air; they had recently done a proposal for a foyer in Birmingham and I thought their entry in this notorious competition was quite interesting as it kind of offered an architecture that was about context. And that context was surely physical but also kind of social context. It was both materially and aesthetically engaged with place, it wasn’t a separate dialogue between the social and physical context, but was rather a mix. MN: So for you it’s all about the infusion of aesthetics and function? RH: I think that’s an interesting question. There’s a lot of rhetoric, a discussion in this country in particular, that’s about form following function. People see design as form has got to follow its function. I think its complete rubbish and has got nothing to do with architecture. Architecture is about how it makes you feel which is completely different from the European Functionalist’s debate that’s got stuck in this country. MN: Therefore the primary aim of the practice is to design spaces which make people feel in a certain way? RH: There’s parts of that, do we have a primary aim, or do we have several different aims? The way we approach the job is probably more about the job which I think makes our practice different. Some practices arrive knowing what they’re going to do, formally, what the building will look like, like Zaha Hadid, you know what the building is going to look like in the end. And that is not our approach, ours is that of arriving to a place and harvesting all the information that is interesting about that place and then try and make a proposal that comes out of that. That probably comes out of contemporary art in the 60s and 70s which was very concerned with making things specific to a place, rather than arriving with a set of ideas and then you apply them to the site. With my students we just went to see five villas by Palladio from the 16 th Century and he actually arrives with an idea, which is neoclassicism, but then actually every villa is so different and so to do with the place, and they’re all totally different from one another. Not only they are by the same architect, they’re the same brief, and about 10 years apart and all of them are nearly 500 years old. But I suppose you could say we strive for a particular atmosphere and get the absolute most out of a situation. We look for things that are already there and then try and intensify those things. MN: Would you say this approach is your ‘signature’ or design ethos? RH: The work that we do is very varied and I think it would be hard to arrive at a building and recognize it as a work of Caruso St John in comparison to a Foster or a Zaha Hadid building. In fact if it was easy to identify our buildings I would think we have failed because that’s the exact opposite thing of what we’re trying to do. MN: It might not be about the aesthetics, but there is some consistency in your projects about the importance of context and the use of materials and construction. RH: When you write a poem your aim is poetic content and you use language as a tool. And say from our point of view our aim is to make a building with poetry and the language of this poetry is construction, and therefore we are interested in how construction makes poetry. In Britain there is a disconnect between ideas people have and building them physically, where construction is not doing what they had perceived, or rather they never considered the status of the material in relation to the original design idea. And for me that’s like writing poetry without thinking about the words. How would you do that? I think we are more interested in pushing ways of building in different ways and it’s not easy, our buildings are not easy to build and we often get a lot of hot water from builders trying to figure it out technically. There exists a culture of building products in this country and you often see more and more marketing of these products so that the architect does not have much to do. And the outcome of that is really boring buildings that all look the same.

Practice visit and interview, November 2011 Portrait of Rod Heyes, Senior Assoiate at Caruso St. John

MN: Chiswick house café is an interesting one, you were the project manager, what were the key moves in the design developments? RH: We made a description of the site back to the client, we made models and drawings of the existing, of what is there now, that has got nothing to do with the proposal, and what’s good about it. The reason we won that competition is because we talked mostly about the landscape, reorganizing the site; that part of the site wasn’t part of William Kent’s master-plan – that bit used to be the dairy, and before that the stables. It was never organised as a picturesque landscape in the way that the rest of the park was. And we said well that’s a problem isn’t it? The reason this place feels weak and disconnected and confusing is because of this messy history of the area and what we need to do is redesign the landscape so that it makes sense and is legible and people can make their way round. After having done that, we made a proposal for a café. The first proposal was based on the Asplund model of the Woodland Chapel where the café had a huge pitched roof with a dome inside but English heritage thought we wouldn’t get the planning permission and we had to redesign the building. The second proposal was based on the Italian Palladio model which kind of organizes the landscape and Chiswick is sort of a Palladian villa in London. The café is equivalent of the barn or the stable in a Palladian villa. Then conversations led to a stone building with a colonnade. The zigzag in the arcade is a free choice making it look like a little temple from the lawn, maybe, but it’s actually an asymmetric building, leaning to the west towards the house. So there’s an arcade that picks up people from the house and an arcade forms a forecourt, a front to the lawn. Slawomir Turek: Do you regularly deal with low energy, sustainable design issues in your projects? RH: We have done lots of work on passive ventilation. But I don’t think we’re pioneering in it in anyway. Im sure we’ve done some projects which are fantastically environmentally friendly but as I mentioned earlier we’re often in these very complicated situations involving English Heritage and such like. A project we were working on recently we tried to get BREEAM excellence and we pretty much did everything we could and we didn’t get it. Because there were certain things that the client wouldn’t let us do and there were certain things that the planning authorities wouldn’t let us do and once you’ve taken away those points, you’re never going to get the ‘excellent’. It’s difficult to have a one-track mind. It’s difficult to say ‘sustainability is everything and I don’t care about anything else I’m going to build housing that uses no energy at all’. I think it’s hard to be a single issue pressure group if you’re trying to massage different people involved. MN: Do you face competition or rivalry from any particular firm? There’s no sort of rivalry, it is what it is, and that’s the system, of competitions. I think there’s work that we strongly disapprove of, whose projects we don’t understand. I don’t understand what Foster does, I don’t understand why he would do what he does as an architect. MN: The practice hasn’t won a Stirling prize yet has it? RH: Yes that’s right. I think you shouldn’t chase prizes. There’s no point. As soon as you start chasing prizes you won’t win any. I mean, it would be really nice to have a satisfied client wouldn’t it? A building that you felt proud of. I think one of the problems as an architect is that you produce so little so slowly. It just takes such a long time to build buildings. And by the time its built after say 4 years after the original idea, and you have a better idea or you’ve learnt something in the process, you’ve got to wait another 4 years to improve on things - so it’s like a 10-year cycle. Robin Sondergaard: The Brick House took 6 years didn’t it? RH: Yes the Brick House took ages. But that was a good idea so it’s alright.

Illustration Credits Figs. 1-10, 12-17, 22, 24. From author (Visited July 2013) Fig 11 (left). From Seier and Seier, <http://www.flickr.com/photos/seier/5386382887/in/photostream> (accessed November 2013) Fig 11 (right). From Caruso St John, < http://www.carusostjohn.com/projects/studio-house> (accessed November 2013) Figs. 18-20. From Gareth Gardner, <http://www.bdonline.co.uk/simon-hudspiths-inspiration-castle-drogo-by-edwinlutyens/5037501.article> (accessed November 2013) Fig. 21. From Marcel Breuer, <http://ad009cdnb.archdaily.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/1335837327-whitney-exterior.jpg> (accessed November 2013) Fig. 23. From Robert Irwin, <http://nyogalleristny.files.wordpress.com/2013/08/irwin_scrim_veil_whitney_0006111314.jpg> (accessed November 2013) Figs. 25-28. From Caruso St John, <http://www.carusostjohn.com/projects> (accessed November 2013) Drawings. From The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p. 97-113

Bibliography Allison, Peter, ‘The presence of construction: Walsall Art Gallery by Caruso St John’, AA files, (no. 35, Spring 1998), p. 70-79 Aureli, Pier V, ‘Caruso St John: Form and Resistance’, El Croquis Journal, (No.166: 2013) Bevan, Robert, ‘A work of art; Architects: Caruso St John Architects’, Building design, (no. 1424, January 2000), p. 8-9 Buxton, Pamela, ‘Simon Hudspith's inspiration: Castle Drogo by Edwin Lutyens’, Building Design Online, (31 May 2012), <http://www.bdonline.co.uk/simon-hudspiths-inspiration-castle-drogo-by-edwin-lutyens/5037501.article> (accessed November 2013) Caruso St John Architects, As built: Caruso St John, (Vitoria-Gasteiz: a+t ediciones, 2005) Caruso St John Architects, Knitting weaving wrapping pressing, (Birkhauser-publishers for architecture, 2000) Caruso St. John Architects; H. Binet; P. Jenkins;, I. Scalbert; R. Moore; K. Fowl, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002) Caruso, Adam, ‘You Choose the Language in Accordance with the Context’, ORIS Year (Issue 51, Croatia: January 2008), p.34-53 Caruso, Adam, The Feeling of Things, (Ediciones Polígrafa, 2008) Caruso, Adam; St John, Peter, ‘Shell, Cladding, Lining’, OASE, (Issue 47, 1997), p.54-55 Cook, Andy, ‘Modernism makes its mark on Walsall’, Building, (Vol. 265, January 2000), p. 14-16 Davidovici, Irina, ‘Huis voor de kunst: New Art Gallery in Walsall [House for art: New Art Gallery in Walsall]’; Architect (The Hague), (Vol.31, no.6, June 2000) p.54-59 Finch, Paul, ‘A substantial gallery with a domestic scale’, Architects' journal, (Vol. 203, January 1996) p. 29-31 Fowle, Kate, ‘A different perspective’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p. 72-74 Holden, Katherine; Jackson, Colin; Shaw, Jeff, ‘Walsall Art Gallery’, The ARUP Journal, (Vol. 35, June 2000), p. 34-37

Hugh Pearman, ‘Youthful London duo builds an unusual art gallery in an out-of-the way location’, Architectural record, (Vol. 188, April 2000), p.32 Hurst, Will, ‘Changes to gallery “are vandalism”’, Building design, (no. 1715, March 2006), p. 5 Jenkinson, Peter, ‘Getting Under Walsall’s Skin’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p. 34-37 Long, Kieran, ‘Nottingham Contemporary art gallery by Caruso St John Architects’, Architects Journal Online, (12 November 2009), < http://www.architectsjournal.co.uk/news/daily-news/nottingham-contemporary-art-gallery-by-caruso-st-johnarchitects/5210778.article> (accessed November 2013) Mallett, Lee, ‘The strong silent type’, Building design, (no. 1274, August 1996), p. 14-15. McGuire, Penny, ‘Rising from its industrial setting, Caruso St John's Walsall gallery is taking Cool Britannia to the country's unglamorous Midlands’, Architectural record, (Vol. 189, May 2001), p. 214-219 McLachlan, Fiona, ‘The unattainable myth of novelty: Caruso St John’, Architectural Colour in the Professional Palette (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge 2012), p.29-47 Moore, Rowan, ‘A Pebble on Water’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p. 58-70 Pell, Bryan, ‘A landmark in Walsall's revival’, Context, (no. 80, July 2003), p. 23-24 Pophamin, Peter, ‘Gagosian turns to Rome for next stage of his art empire’, The Independent, (December 2007), <http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/gagosian-turns-to-rome-for-next-stage-of-his-art-empire-765483.html> (accessed November 2013) Rosbottom, Daniel, 'Urban Ornament', Oris, (No. 61, April 2010), p. 72-81 Rattenbury, Kester, ‘Playing to the gallery’, Building design, (no. 1445, June 2000), p. 22-23 Scalbert, Irénéé, ‘The New Art Gallery and its geography’, The New Art Gallery Walsall, (B T Batsford, 2002), p. 40-57 St John, Peter, ‘The Feeling of Things: Towards an Architecture of Emotions’, Shaping Earth, (Wolverhampton, UK, 2000), p.78-81, <http://www.carusostjohn.com/text/towards-an-architecture-of-emotions> (accessed March 15 2013) Sudjic, Deyan, 'Extreme makeover', The Guardian: The Observer, (May 9, 2004), <http://www.theguardian.com/theobserver/2004/may/09/1?INTCMP=SRCH> (accessed November 2013) Toth, Susan Allen, 'A Modern Medieval Castle', The New York Times, (March 24, 1996) <http://www.nytimes.com/1996/03/24/travel/a-modern-medieval-castle.html?pagewanted=all&src=pm> (accessed November 2013) Ursprung, Philip, Caruso St John: Almost Everything, (Barcelona : Ediciones Poligrafa, 2008) Whitney Museum of American Art, 'History of the Whitney' and 'The Breuer Building', <http://whitney.org/About> (accessed November 2013)