This is a beautiful apartment building in the center of Palma. Brutalist ground floor. Operable wooden slats up the rest of the facade. It feels right at home in this climate. It's also a passive-energy building that uses 90% less energy compared to a "conventional" apartment building. The technical classification is nZEB (or a nearly zero energy building). It's pretty amazing that with only 9 apartments, these kinds of projects pencil here. Perhaps it's no surprise that it's also a single-stair building.
The architect is OHLAB. For more information, here's their website.
You may not have ever used this exact term before, but I'm sure that most of you know what it is. On his blog over the weekend, Witold Rybczynski wrote about a new architectural term he just learned called: "multiple expression." What it refers to is the use of different architectural styles on a long facade in order for the building to appear as if it's multiple smaller ones.
And today, I would say that this is largely viewed as a positive thing. Typically it is done to "break up a massing" or create a "fine-grained retail experience." In fact, you'll find things like this in some design guidelines. Here's one from Toronto's mid-rise performance standards:
This doesn't explicitly stipulate that architects should use "multiple expressions", but it does suggest that long repetitive facades are suboptimal, and that they should be broken up. But Witold's view is the opposite. He argues that this "bespeaks a lack of confidence, a poverty of the imagination." And he gives the example of Park Crescent in London, designed by architect John Nash.
This is a beautiful apartment building in the center of Palma. Brutalist ground floor. Operable wooden slats up the rest of the facade. It feels right at home in this climate. It's also a passive-energy building that uses 90% less energy compared to a "conventional" apartment building. The technical classification is nZEB (or a nearly zero energy building). It's pretty amazing that with only 9 apartments, these kinds of projects pencil here. Perhaps it's no surprise that it's also a single-stair building.
The architect is OHLAB. For more information, here's their website.
You may not have ever used this exact term before, but I'm sure that most of you know what it is. On his blog over the weekend, Witold Rybczynski wrote about a new architectural term he just learned called: "multiple expression." What it refers to is the use of different architectural styles on a long facade in order for the building to appear as if it's multiple smaller ones.
And today, I would say that this is largely viewed as a positive thing. Typically it is done to "break up a massing" or create a "fine-grained retail experience." In fact, you'll find things like this in some design guidelines. Here's one from Toronto's mid-rise performance standards:
This doesn't explicitly stipulate that architects should use "multiple expressions", but it does suggest that long repetitive facades are suboptimal, and that they should be broken up. But Witold's view is the opposite. He argues that this "bespeaks a lack of confidence, a poverty of the imagination." And he gives the example of Park Crescent in London, designed by architect John Nash.
If you're an architect, you're sort of expected to have a somewhat eccentric home (or at least a really cool home). And that was certainly the case for architect Paul Rudolph. Paul is perhaps best known -- at least in my mind -- for being the chair of Yale's architecture program and for designing its Brutalist building. But he also designed himself a pretty interesting apartment. In 1976, he bought the 19th-century townhouse at 23 Beekman Place in New York. He then constructed himself a now historically-landmarked penthouse on top of it. Now, technically, it is four levels. But spatially, it's more like a series of connected platforms -- 27 of them to be exact. So the penthouse is often described as being 27 levels, and as not having any doors and walls. Because those are totally overrated. I joke, but it's a beautiful and interesting space. And the two founders of New York's Gachot (and their two teenage boys) recently got a chance to live in it for three years. If you'd like to hear and see what that was like, click here.
Photo: Sight Unseen
It's long (well over 60m) and it's repetitive:
Perhaps a good counter example to this would be Mirvish Village in Toronto, which was designed by Henriquez Partners and which has been largely celebrated as a way of creating the feeling of fine-grained urbanism in a larger master-planned development. Here it is on Google, still under construction:
So what is it that makes Mirvish Village a generally desirable outcome in today's planning environment, even though I suspect that most people would still appreciate what John Nash did on Park Crescent back in the early 1800s? Are we saying -- with our guidelines -- that we like Park Crescent, but that we shouldn't do that ever again today?
And to what extent do age and architectural style play into these opinions? Are long repetitive facades over 60m acceptable as long as the architectural style is "Regency" and the buildings aren't too tall? Is modernism the problem? Because here's another example from London: The Alexandra and Ainsworth Estate.
Built in the 1970s, it is a Brutalist housing estate with a largely repetitive design, and even a slight curve reminiscent of Park Crescent:
Does this have confidence and imagination? Witold would probably say no.
In the end, I guess the answer is that it all depends. Guidelines are just that -- guides. They are not set in stone rules that must never be broken under any circumstances. That would be to reduce architecture to a strict science, and there's clearly also an art component to building great cities.
"Multiple expression" is usually done to create the feeling of finer-grained urbanism. But sometimes -- if you're old and regal-looking enough -- the opposite can be okay too.
If you're an architect, you're sort of expected to have a somewhat eccentric home (or at least a really cool home). And that was certainly the case for architect Paul Rudolph. Paul is perhaps best known -- at least in my mind -- for being the chair of Yale's architecture program and for designing its Brutalist building. But he also designed himself a pretty interesting apartment. In 1976, he bought the 19th-century townhouse at 23 Beekman Place in New York. He then constructed himself a now historically-landmarked penthouse on top of it. Now, technically, it is four levels. But spatially, it's more like a series of connected platforms -- 27 of them to be exact. So the penthouse is often described as being 27 levels, and as not having any doors and walls. Because those are totally overrated. I joke, but it's a beautiful and interesting space. And the two founders of New York's Gachot (and their two teenage boys) recently got a chance to live in it for three years. If you'd like to hear and see what that was like, click here.
Photo: Sight Unseen
It's long (well over 60m) and it's repetitive:
Perhaps a good counter example to this would be Mirvish Village in Toronto, which was designed by Henriquez Partners and which has been largely celebrated as a way of creating the feeling of fine-grained urbanism in a larger master-planned development. Here it is on Google, still under construction:
So what is it that makes Mirvish Village a generally desirable outcome in today's planning environment, even though I suspect that most people would still appreciate what John Nash did on Park Crescent back in the early 1800s? Are we saying -- with our guidelines -- that we like Park Crescent, but that we shouldn't do that ever again today?
And to what extent do age and architectural style play into these opinions? Are long repetitive facades over 60m acceptable as long as the architectural style is "Regency" and the buildings aren't too tall? Is modernism the problem? Because here's another example from London: The Alexandra and Ainsworth Estate.
Built in the 1970s, it is a Brutalist housing estate with a largely repetitive design, and even a slight curve reminiscent of Park Crescent:
Does this have confidence and imagination? Witold would probably say no.
In the end, I guess the answer is that it all depends. Guidelines are just that -- guides. They are not set in stone rules that must never be broken under any circumstances. That would be to reduce architecture to a strict science, and there's clearly also an art component to building great cities.
"Multiple expression" is usually done to create the feeling of finer-grained urbanism. But sometimes -- if you're old and regal-looking enough -- the opposite can be okay too.
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