Gh 1128435973 narrative bookletsanitised

Guggenheim Helsinki design competition 2. stage

GH 112843 5973

twoin-one museum

GH 11 2 8 4 3 5 9 7 3 Guggenheim Helsinki design competition stage two submission part A / narrative booklet

table of contents

one-sentence description

1

concept ceci n’est pas un musée

5

ceci n’est pas une pipe

6

musée précaire

7

pas de deux 8 two-in-one museum 9 building and exhibition spaces common museum

13

museum in the air

15

the kiss

17

back of house 19 site and context between city and harbor 23 inside out

25

micro-topography 27 sustainability Makasiini Terminal 31 zero

33

grids

35

interior climate

37

technology and materiality construction

41

structure

43

skin

45

roof

47

light

49

one-sentence description

The museum is composed of two spaces – one for exhibitions, the other a public forum – that come together in a dance involving art and the city, gradually engaging in multiple movements, from a pas de deux, to a pas de trois, etcetera...

1

2

concept

concept

1.

harbor view from entry escalator

3

concept

What would it mean for a museum not to be a museum? Can a museum become something other than what it is typically considered to be?

Hardly rhetorical, such issues are just as relevant today as they were for André Malraux when, in his inaugural address for the opening of the Fondation Maeght in the early 1960s, he claimed ‘ceci n’est pas un musée’, suggesting that the architectural ensemble there redefined the very understanding of a building dedicated to the arts.

ceci n’est pas un musée

His assertion ‘this is not a museum’ was indicative of his search for other ways in which this type-form could perform beyond traditional conceptions of art institutions as closed archives that insulate art from the world. Questioning this notion allowed him to consider seemingly improbable architectures such as ‘the imaginary museum’ or ‘the museum without walls’.1 So, what would such a museum really entail? It would be a setting open to all, one not limited to select works of art, but robust enough to embrace other disciplines, as well as the everyday and its unpredictability, a place exposed, essentially without walls, whether physical or symbolic.

With this, art would be re-contextualized back into the world – an open museum.

André Malraux, Museum without Walls (New York: Doubleday, 1967) and Le musée imaginaire de la sculpture mondiale, published in three volumes (Paris: Librairie Gallimard, 1952-54).

1

André Malraux, ‘Musée imaginaire’ (The Museum without Walls), 1947 photograph showing Malraux in his Paris study with photographs for The Voices of Silence, the first part of which was published separately as The Museum without Walls.

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concept

Malraux was alluding to René Magritte’s painting The Treachery of Images that pairs a representation of a pipe with the statement ‘this is not a pipe’. A tension is established between the two components of the work, with each supplementing and calling the other into question.

This doubling captivated Michel Foucault, inspiring him to write the exposé Ceci n’est pas une pipe, opening up the painting to more readings than Magritte ever anticipated.

“There are two pipes,” writes Foucault, “or rather must we not say, two drawings of the same pipe? Or two drawings,

ceci n’est pas une pipe

one representing a pipe and the other not, or two more drawings yet, of which neither the one nor the other are pipes?”2 Foucault’s re-reading multiplies the dialectical relationship in Magritte’s painting, teasing out of the original pair a tangle of the many.

Could this process of opening up an apparently closed circuit of meaning be brought to bear on the museum?

American writer Walter Lippmann did just this when contemplating what he called ‘the museum of the future’ – his version of the ‘musée imaginaire’. His reflections also began with a binary logic, stating that “one can imagine that the museum of the future will have two departments – one the sanctuary of unique objects and the other in effect a library for the student, the scholar, and the amateur.”3 When these two realms are brought into dialogue their multiplying effect is increased through the potential for unforeseeable chain reactions, not unlike processes set off in laboratory experiments – the museum as lab.

2 Michel Foucault, This is Not a Pipe, trans. James Harkness (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983); originally published as Ceci n’est pas une pipe (Montpellier: Éditions Fata Morgana, 1973), 16.

René Magritte, La trahison des images, 1929

3 Walter Lippmann, „The Museum of the Future,“ The Atlantic (October 1, 1948); transcript of Lippmann’s address delivered at the annual meeting of the American Association of Museums in 1948

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concept

Experimenting with alternative forms of the museum was at the core of Thomas Hirschhorn’s Musée Précaire Albinet.4 As if to connect the idea of a wall-less institution with the prospect of a living laboratory, he inserted a makeshift museum in a Parisian banlieue, involving resident youth as impromptu construction crews, curators, security guards, and so forth. A dialogue was established that brought the Centre Pompidou into direct contact with daily life in an outlying neighborhood. The sheer implausibility of this venture came with rallying locals to participate in building

musée précaire

a facility virtually unknown to them and at the same time convincing the national museum to lend works by such artists as Duchamp, Malevich, Mondrian, Dalí, Beuys, and Warhol for temporary exhibitions.

Key to Hirschhorn’s art intervention was the integration of practices of everyday life within the project, including cooking, daycare, communal chat rooms, and writing classes, thus transcending connotations of high culture associated with a museum and overcoming, at least momentarily, the stigma of the city’s edge as a precarious place. Although the works on loan eventually returned to their home in the heart of Paris, the Musée Précaire remained as a lively public forum on the periphery.

Hirschhorn’s work was considered an art installation rather than the founding of a new institution, yet it nevertheless offers a vision of how the museum’s remit might be expanded, reframing the notion of what it can do and spawning curatorial practices that engage directly with local stakeholders – the museum as participatory platform.

Thomas Hirschhorn, Musée Précaire Albinet, Aubervilliers, 2004 (Paris: Éditions Xavier Barral, Les Laboratoires d’Aubervilliers, 2005).

4

Thomas Hirschhorn, Musée Précaire Albinet, Aubervilliers, Paris, 2004.

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concept

Alluding to these precedents in rethinking the museum, the project for the Guggenheim Helsinki pursues the idea of another kind of venue for the arts. With the announcement of the venture being ambiguously received in Finland, some residents being in favor and others against it, this proposal recognizes the validity of political debate concerning the project’s financing and appropriateness for the context.

If Malraux’s statement ‘ceci n’est pas un musée’ is taken to heart, the question arises of how to make a museum that is both a museum and also not a museum. Can such a thing

pas de deux

exist? Could an alternative be considered, benefiting not just the art enthusiast, but the public at large – a museum both formal and informal?

Such queries form the working basis of the proposed museum that incorporates a doubling-effect as its organizing principle. Two spaces are set into dialogue, in which one addresses the limitations of the other while strengthening their respective qualities – a pas de deux played out in multiple episodes of encounter.

One space is for art exhibitions and the other functions as an incubator of ideas, of culture, and of discovery. Together, they are more than the sum of their parts, with each opening up a range of relations among people, architecture, and the arts. With this, the Guggenheim Helsinki can engage a larger constituency of stakeholders in the co-creation of value, taking cues from such pilot projects as the Museum as Hub and NEW INC in New York, furthering innovative practices that aim to expand what art institutions can do.

Pas de deux ‘the kiss’ in Roland Petit’s choreography of Carmen, San Jose Center for the Performing Arts, San José, California, May 2014

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concept

Promoting an interface between the city and art production, the project explores the concept of a ‘two-in-one museum’ that fosters connections between the everyday and art. This is meant to foreground the performative potential of the building as a tool to be used in daily life.

One part of the museum is on the dock level of the port facility, acknowledging the site’s former industrial function as a vital memory for the new ensemble. The existing terminal is re-used where possible for diverse, unexpected activities. While maintaining its role as a hub for passengers

two-in-one museum

at one end of the structure, the extension at the other end acts as the museum’s entry. Part laboratory, part community center, part gathering space, it is conceived as a public commons that extends the pedestrian boardwalk into the building – a social infrastructure for education, outreach, and events within the city.

The other part of the museum is the ‘museum’ as such, in so far as it houses exhibitions. The structure is in the air and hovers – not unlike Magritte’s pipe in the painting – above the other. Whereas this place is more formal than the dockside facility, it nonetheless displays characteristics of a warehouse, with large open spaces, generous skylights, industrial finishes, and straightforward installations. As a hall on stilts, partly removed from street level, the building offers a place of refuge, a ‘slow space’ of contemplation adhering to the notion of the museum as an other space, one complementing its companion spaces below.5

Rem Koolhaas interviewed by Tim Griffin, “Many Happy Returns,” Artforum International Magazine – The Museum Revisited, vol. XLVIII, no. 10 (Summer 2010): 289. In reference to his project for the St. Petersburg‘s Hermitage Museum, Koolhaas distinguishes between ‘slow’ and ‘fast’ spaces, the former for contemplating art and the latter a social infrastructure for spontaneous activities.

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early 20th century postcard of the Harland & Wolff shipyard in Belfast, Ireland

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10

building and exhibition spaces

building and exhibition spaces

2.

autumn evening 10:45 p m.

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building and exhibition spaces

ground floor common space

workshop at the Dynamo culture and youth center model photograph

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building and exhibition spaces

Tino Sehgal, The Kiss, performed at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, Holland Cotter, „In the Naked Museum: Talking, Thinking, Encountering,“ The New York Times (January 31, 2010)

model photograph

in-between gallery

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building and exhibition spaces

Back and front of house are separated to guarantee the smooth flow of operations involved with moving art in and out of the museum. An isolated zone extends vertically through the entire building, with a premium placed on security and functional efficiency of movement across relevant departments of the museum.

Art arrives in trucks at a dedicated shipping and receiving dock where crates are unpacked, inspected, and then transferred to preparation and conservation areas. From there, works are loaded into a freight elevator that

back of house

travels either to the intermediate gallery or directly to a special receiving zone embedded in the core of the main exhibition hall above. This secure zone on the top floor can be expanded into the exhibition space to accommodate installation work necessary for new shows without disturbing those running.

A separate entry is provided for administrative staff on the ground floor, allowing them discreet access to their offices on the mezzanine level as well as backstage to maintenance and operation spaces. With offices located between the lower and upper halls, museum employees can easily access both and are offered glimpses into the double-height shipping and receiving zone plus the public hall below.

The back of house constitutes a world in its own right woven into the building fabric.

Emergency egress is provided with fire stairs located within the longitudinal core of the museum spaces conforming with requirements of the National Building Code of Finland.

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Kaivopuisto

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site and context

city and harbor

pier construction, 2013 (photograph by Dave Beach, courtesy of tschock) Makasiini Terminal and Olympia Terminal, Helsinki, 2015

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site and context

The museum sits as a slender, horizontal line between the city and the harbor. Its height is intentionally low, allowing the building to blend in with the urban fabric along the waterfront and the neighboring park on the hill. It is as if the museum has been slipped into its surrounding context or has just docked alongside other ships. The closer one gets, however, the more it is thrown into relief as a free-standing structure.

Conceptually, the existing terminal is doubled by the twin structure above that slides over the end of the

between city and harbor

lower building. A large, covered outdoor entry space is created welcoming the city into the museum. Cityscape and boardwalk literally extend inside to form the urban commons at dock level. Views out across the bay make Helsinki itself the primary exhibit of the lower hall, an exhibit made even more dramatic as one ascends to the elevated exhibition space.

In essence, the project is the threshold of two realms that cohabit the edge: the city and the harbor. Though mutually reliant, the two are to some degree at odds with each other.

On the one hand, the city is intent on gentrifying this border zone with beautified boardwalks, car-free plazas, and smallscale commercial offerings. On the other hand, industries associated with the port want to maintain their operational efficiency, requiring the movement of heavy trucks, largescale equipment, and industrial night lighting. Given this conflict of interests, the museum is poised as a potential urban arbiter capable of bridging this divide.

harbor boardwalk

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site and context

public entry with micro-topography

snow piles at the intersection of Esplanadi and South Harbor, Helsinki, 2015

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site and context

Walking in Helsinki in winter requires coordination in order to avoid slipping on ice or stepping in pools of slush. The project’s landscape design takes into account this seasonal aspect by proposing slight modulations in the surface of the public space leading to the museum’s entry – a microtopography that responds to climatic variations. Subtle depressions create pockets where rainwater or melting snow can collect, generating shallow puddles of water and thin streams of ice distributed to choreograph the movement of visitors.

micro-topography

Spaces are designated along the dock where tall mounds of snow so familiar within wintertime Helsinki can be deposited, adding to the staged landscape of the museum within its urban environment. As if in a dance, snow removal vehicles can be seen moving piles of snow to designated areas framed by benches.

Asphalt is the primary paving material in keeping with the industrial character of the dock itself, thus facilitating maintenance. Overlaid onto the tarmac is a graphic system of arrows and dashed lines directing the flow of traffic associated with port and museum operations. These vehicular zones are treated as part of the micro-topography insofar as they are minimally raised.

These surface inflections and markings – or ground signatures – can be seen from the adjacent park as well as the street leading down to the boardwalk, making the outdoor area an urban façade in its own right.

model of bench, outdoor entry of the Guggenheim Helsinki

floor templates and lines used for the construction of the Museum of Modern Art roof garden, New York, 2004

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sustainability

waterfront facade with Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, See No Evil by HC Berg

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sustainability

[kWh/m2] 90 80

grey energy

23.8

70 60

grey energy

17.9

exergy use

51

50 40 30

exergy use

69

20 10 0

[92.8 kWh/m2/y] normal

[68.9 kWh/m2/y] more insulated

grey energy

17.1

exergy use

12

[29.1 kWh/m2/y] Guggenheim Helsinki

balancing exergy demand of heating and envelope materials

[kgCO2/m2/y]

annual savings [kgCO2/y]

20 41 x 15

10

5 CO2 building lifecycle

10.1

0 replaced CO2 emissions by clean energy supply

[24.7 kgCO2/m2/y] normal

[17.0 kgCO2/m2/y] more insulated

-10.1

[0 kgCO2/m2/y]

sions sparedofCO Guggenheim of Guggenheim Helsinki 2 emissionsHelsinki compared ent construc to curr ion practices nt construction in Finland practices in Finland n("theormal" left graph case in the left graph)

Guggenheim Helsinki

FZC’s integral approach: effective reduction of CO2 emissions

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sustainability

The proposal minimizes CO2-emissions over the building’s life cycle according to a ‘full zero concept’ that takes into account a) embedded energy of construction components, b) energy needed for the museum’s operation, and c) energy produced by the building – summarized in the formula: embodied energy + operational energy = life cycle energy production (a + b = c)

By implication, the older the building, the smaller its ecological footprint; the more materials are recycled, the shorter the break-even point when the total energy

zero

generated by the museum is equivalent to its embedded and operational energy – based on coordination of the three parts of the formula.

Embodied energy: Embodied energy is reduced by re-using the existing terminal as a material reservoir and by using less energy-intensive materials such as Finnish wood for the structure.

Operational energy: To reduce energy consumption and emissions, coordinated heating, cooling, and ventilation systems are introduced for different parts of the museum.

Monitoring and control minimize the building’s energy demand and maximize the use of renewable energy.

Energy production: The building itself is a generator of renewable, carbon-free energy. Hybrid collectors mounted on the roof produce electricity and warm water. Ground source heat pumps maximize the use of CO2-free anergy sources, with geothermal boreholes for storing excess energy from the summer to be used in winter.

With such measures incorporated into the operating systems of the museum, it is set to become an ecological landmark, not in terms on its form per se, but because of its environmental performance.

Guggenheim Museum exhibition catalogue ZERO: Countdown to Tomorrow, 1950s–60s, 2014

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sustainability

Savings [cost] [T]

crosslinking systems generating synergies

T1 T2 system dynamics closing energy cycles

€ Night Morning Afternoon

Evening

solar energy

system dynamics maximizing anergy use

minimizing exergy use

anergy

exergy

energy flows: borders of the system

Tair < 0°C

Tair < 15°C

winter

summer

Qheating

Qcooling

Twater < 5°C

Twater> 7°C

"free heating"

"free cooling"

cooling grid: double value of harbor water

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sustainability

The museum is plugged into three existing municipal energy grids for cooling, heating, and electricity. In view of the objective to attain zero-emissions, different strategies working in tandem are pursued with respect to the specificity of each grid.

District cooling grid: This advanced system capitalizes on the emission-free process of using harbor water to cool buildings. The museum connects to this energy-efficient infrastructure and takes advantage of this pioneering approach to servicing the city.

grids

District heating grid: Rather than drawing on this energy provision, due to its reliance on coal and natural gas, the museum instead is designed to generate enough of its own energy through hybrid thermal collectors, efficient heat pumps, and geothermal seasonal storage. If cost-effective, the museum can give back an energy surplus to the city’s heating grid. In this sense, the Helsinki Guggenheim can function as a node in the overall system to reduce the city’s use of fossil fuels over time and improve the environmental impact of its thermal network.

Electrical grid: The photovoltaic panels integrated in the hybrid collectors on the museum’s roof use the sun to cover energy demands and, by feeding excess electricity into this system, use it as a sink for intermediate storage to be used when needed.

Linking the museum directly into these existing grids – at times giving, at times taking – makes it part of a greater public works project. This move to integrate the Guggenheim Helsinki into the urban energy system gives rise to a promising practice of infrastructural contextualization.

coal heap at Hanasaari Power Plant in Helsinki, 2010 (photograph by Petteri Sulonen)

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model photograph

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technology and materiality

technology and materiality

5.

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technology and materiality

+23.00

photovoltaics skylight +21.00

wood lattice framing

+19.50

wood trusses

exhibition hall

+13.50 cross laminated timber plates 3-D Timber truss

+11.40

cross laminated finnish spruce timber entry hall

+0.70

cafĂŠ Âą0.00 asphalt concrete slab concrete piles

partial building section

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technology and materiality

In fulfilling its mandate to serve the public, which has been asked to finance the undertaking, the project aims to make do with less, pursuing an â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;economy of meansâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; for building the museum. Straightforward and affordable construction is deployed where possible, but is used in unexpected ways to yield moments of surprise and varying atmospheres within the overall experience.

The low-tech approach to the lower hall treats the existing terminal and its extension as a collection of parts to which other parts could be added in the future. The rough-and-

construction

ready nature of this portion of the museum combined with its openness to modification makes it a mutable space that can evolve over time.

The upper hall for exhibitions is a state-of-the-art environment incorporating advanced technology for its roof and daylight diffusion system. Visitors inhabit the unobstructed spaces served by a technical fly space above, which guarantees a high degree of flexibility for exhibition choreography.

Construction is understood in a dual sense that bears upon both material and meaning. On the one hand, physical construction gives rise to an armature that facilitates the unfolding of activities and encounters. On the other hand, conceptual construction provides the datum on which meaning is built. In this sense, physical construction is always doubled by constructions carried out in the mind, a doubling played out in an architecture poised at the intersection of life and art.

model photograph

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technology and materiality

timber roof structure stiffened by diagonal roof

timber wall framing stiffened by steel cables

heavy timber structure spatial framework

spruce timber pillars

reinforced concrete cores for lateral stability

foundation piles in concrete reaching into bedrock

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technology and materiality

Of particular importance is the development of a viable structural system: Whereas the foundations are comprised of concrete piles that are anchored in bedrock, the primary load-bearing elements of the structural system are made of crosslaminated timber using Finnish spruce. For the fabrication of the diamond-shaped columns cutting-edge wood engineering technology is used.

The plinth forming the base of the upper exhibition hall and

structure

housing its service infrastructure is conceived as a 3D-truss covered above and below by cross-laminated timber plates that provide additional lateral support.

The walls of the upper gallery are likewise constructed as wooden trusses that wrap around the exhibition space, at moments exposing themselves in window openings.

A filigree lattice construction made of wood is used for the roof that follows the geometry of the shed-roof skylights above.

In all, the upper gallery is effectively one large space frame that can be occupied by people and art. Lateral stability to this hovering â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;beamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; is provided by the vertical concrete service cores distributed along the length of the entire gallery.

spruce forest in southern Finland

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technology and materiality

museum entry

Aurora Borealis, Paatsjoki River in Nellim, Finland, March 5, 2012 (photograph by Natalia Robba)

range of moirĂŠ patterns produced by the overlay of two screens, rotated at 1.5, 2.5, and 3,5 degrees respectively

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technology and materiality

The museumâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s enclosure is constructed of standard components, albeit assembled in such a way as to achieve subtle effects in relation to changing environmental conditions.

The envelope of the upper museum is conceived as a responsive membrane that changes its complexion in reaction to rain, snow, and sun. The skin is comprised of several layers: a) an inner wall of insulated heavy timber,

skin

b) a water- and wind-resistant, brass-coated foil reflecting light, and c) a doubled screen of expanded metal mesh whose overlap produces a moirĂŠ pattern.

Depending on the time of day and the relative position of the viewer, the appearance of the elevated hall of the museum oscillates between silver and gold, shiny and shaded, opaque and transparent.

Snow, rain, ice, and dew collect on this layered surface adding an additional array of reflective material to the floating volume that at times even recalls the northern light of the Aurora Borealis.

1:1 prototype model showing expanded metal screens in front of a brass-coated foil

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technology and materiality

The roof’s geometry is distinctive. The sheds are diagonally shifted relative to the museum, with the skylights facing north and the solar collectors oriented to the south – an alignment coinciding with the grid of the city fabric.

Notwithstanding its formal resonance with the industrial vernacular of the past, the roof balances the need for environmental responsiveness with the specific technical requirements of a contemporary museum. Conceived as an integral component of the exhibition space, the roof performs multiple functions at once – as structure, light

roof

filter, energy source, climatic barrier, and device to prevent snow accumulation.

Given its purposely large area of interface with the exterior, the roof has a major influence on the museum’s energy performance. The portion of the roof covered by hybrid panels enables the building to control its most important thermal boundary both in winter and summer.

In winter – paradoxically – the roof uses the city cooling grid for heating purposes. First, by circulating cold water through the external roof surface, this system establishes a boundary temperature higher than that of the colder outside air, thus reducing the heating energy demand during extreme winter climate. Second, the roof surface melts snow efficiently, preventing the accumulation of heavy loads.

In summer, the roof is part of a system whose function is

Troof

to capture, store, and regenerate energy. First, the city’s

-30°C

electricity grid is used as a medium for storing surplus

Troof ≥ 0°C

Twalls

power. Second, as the roof is cooled by the city’s cooling

-30°C Tfloor

grid, the efficiency of the photovoltaic panels is increased.

-30°C

Tfloor

Third, thermal energy is given back to the earth, ensuring

-30°C Twalls

regeneration of the ground temperature.

-30°C

With this approach to integrating technicity and aesthetics, the power of form takes on a new meaning – a simple sawtooth shed being more than meets the eye.

peak power heating reduction, by circulation district cooling water through hybrid panels

47

technology and materiality

model photograph

48

technology and materiality

Instead of a black box, the upper part of the museum is conceived as a light box. Positioned to harvest natural light, a north-facing skylight system illuminates the buildingâ&#x20AC;&#x2DC;s top-floor galleries. The objective here is to balance natural light variations with illumination levels appropriate for displaying and viewing art.

The roof of the galleries functions as a diffuser for capturing and distributing light in even levels, while accepting subtle changes of sunlight. Daylight is supplemented by a precisely controlled artificial lighting system that

light

counteracts drastic swings in outside conditions. Photosensors are used to control dimmable fixtures, which adjust artificial lighting levels when needed. Additionally, a polyvinyl butyral (PVB) interlayer is incorporated as a filter to protect art from potential damage from ultraviolet light.

Shading and darkening screens are also incorporated into this upper plenum to block natural light if necessary. A semi-transparent textile sheet is suspended just below the skylights to provide an extra diffuser for the galleries.

Looking up through this screen, visitors are given a glimpse of this upper realm of the illumination system â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a technical sky.

model photograph

49

model photograph

50