On the Kunsthistoriches Museum

Kunsthistoriches Museum
Formally, if one is inclined to be moved by monolithic volumes, some in stone, others glazed in glass, graced by a rare beam of Berlin sunlight, or by the relentless dia-grid of a limestone floor pattern - then this building will hit the spot.
But personally it falls prey to creating only grand volumes, emulating in every way - but at 1/5 the scale - the diagonal movement, the floating bridges, the underground connections, the shifting stairways and the material palette of the Washington DC National Gallery of Art, leaving the galleries to fill the left-over periphery. The architecture, scaled down from the "Grand Projets" that Pei has been accustomed to, reads as an exercise in form, with the single-mindedness of a posthumous work. In this context, the galleries, then, become hostage to this diagram, that Mr.Pei has mastered so well in his 4 decades of museum building. Fortunately he has done better museums elsewhere, at the Miho in Japan (which we worked on), and more recently in Suzhou, where the public spaces and the relentless geometry have been overridden by other imperatives, stronger than the architecture: the site, nature and the process of getting to the museum in the first place. At the Kunsthistoriches, the circular cantilevered stairway seems so strenuously earnest for an entrance gesture, that you might as well just walk by it and down the side-street to Schinkel's plaza to enjoy the shade of the trees. The galleries and the "collection" are hardly worth the detour.

On the Prado Museum

A second favorite in terms of collection. Early on, we had signed up for the first open competition that was announced for the Prado expansion some years ago. So, we know the historical building well, the constraints of the expansion, having perused a very complete competition brief . We have not, however, visited Moneo's recently completed work. We did not feel the need to rush to make a visit: his architecture does not demand to be seen this way. One can only assume, knowing much of his work, that it will have a certain imposing confidence to it, classic spatial moves and use of materials and natural light, in dramatic ways - not necessarily recommended in a "museumscape" where drama and high contrast in lighting are to be avoided. In a good way, it will eschew, as much of Moneo's built work does, the risks of flamboyant public gestures. While we may appreciate the facilitated visitor flow, the expanded galleries, and the cafe, we will nevertheless visit the Prado, not for Moneo, but to be enthralled by the El Grecos , Murillos, Zurburans, Goyas and Velasquezes.

On the Hermitage Museum

A favorite. Not to be touched, hopefully, by the current interest in crowding-pleasing, or crowd-controlling expansions. The Hermitage does not need more space, so by default it may be saved from this potential defacing. Koolhaa's recent planning strategies with a group of local architects for the Hermitage, barely conceals the rhetorical strategies that are part of his expansionist practice. This is a bizarre mismatch of architect and museum, not unlike the unhappy marriage of Libeskin with Toronto, or Coop Himmel(b)au in Akron. We must expect that a self-declared ego-architect, offered to re-look at the mindbogglingly complexity and disorientation of the Hermitage, will not put ironic interventions to waste here.
So, we think of the Hermitage with melancholic nostalgia, as one can only assume the virus of museum architecture - minus the museography we like to champioin - will unfortunately infiltrate those palatial spaces. What the Hermitage does need, is more and better lighting - natural and artificial - upgraded conservation and visitable storage to rotate works, and a new vision on how media content is supplied so all types of visitors can find their way - and their own choices - in the viewing the works of art.

On the National Gallery in London

I would say, arguably the best museum in Europe to contemplate grand master paintings. The scale of the rooms, both in height and in plan, as well as the natural daylight, are almost perfect. Despite the ornementation of the spaces, the tired postures of the guards, the tired look of the velvet red walls, it remains the one place in the world where one can believe that the birth of the museum, the western 19th Century treasure house, was a well founded endeavor. The Louvre palatial rooms, are more like enfilades, for strolling. The National Gallery are proportioned for viewing, for the short hesitation to look at the art. For that, one never tires.
The format, the layouts and the proportions of other encyclopedic museums - the Metropolitan Museum in New York in particular - pale in comparison. And without all of the new tools at our disposal in designing new museums - the sophisticated sun-tracking models and computer aided simulations to create the optimal sky-lite galleries, from the great skylights of DeMenil Collection in Houston, to the more recent Baeyeler Museum in Basel, from the Kimbel Art Museum in Fort Worth to the Nasher Sculpture Court in Dallas (all, except for Louis Kahn's masterpiece, designed with the help of our friend Andy Sedgwick of Arup, London) - the NGA somehow still go it right: Just the correct dose of light levels, contrast, diffusion and an awareness of the time of day. It is in this light that Velaquez's Venus and Cupid, or Hans Holbein's The Ambassadors, enthralls the viewer, seen before being understood.

Now for the dated addition, by Venturi Scott Brown. One can be drawn to the light filled galleries perceived from the historic spaces, as another enfilade of rooms, and risk seeing more art in a post-modern installation. But for this visitor, I have always refrained - I just cannot bear the thought that Venturi did not live up to the lessons of the true NGA. So, the addition, has remained for me a theoretical expansion, seen only from the corner of your eye from Trafalgar; a period piece to be noted by an outdated architectural monograph. The more recent entrance reconfigurations, very sleek and minimal, equally do no justice to the NGA, nor do they set up an expectation for viewing the art. Lost opportunities in both design and visitor experience. Even worse to contemplate, as London is teaming with such creative force as to expect, even demand, otherwise. Nelson's Column did and got Rachel Whiteread's anemic, but beautiful clear, cast base.