Last summer I attempted to fulfil
a long-held ambition: to travel down the Loire valley in France from its source
to the sea. The journey began at Le
Havre which provided an excellent opportunity to see the most
comprehensive collection of buildings by
Auguste Perret in France or indeed the world. Le Havre is a city whose centre
was almost entirely destroyed by war in
1944; the responsibility for reconstruction was basically the responsibility of
one architect, Auguste Perret.
The whole centre has strongly
formal Neo-Classical quality, based as it is around axis and squares. This Neo-Classical approach
extends from both the urban design strategy to the individual buildings. When
Le Corbusier came to design the great sequence of spaces that form the entrance
to the Capitol complex at Chandigarh he apparently based many of the proportions
on the Rue de Rivoli in Paris. In Le Havre
Perret draws on a different architectural precedent,
in this case, it would seem, the Parisian apartment block. The proportions are
not reproduced exactly; there are nods in the direction of modernity, the buildings shoot up from the bench-mark
average of around four stories to mini-Rockefeller Centre proportions. Perhaps
the greatest difference here is one of materials, the buildings here are not
constructed of stone but of reinforced concrete.
Walking around the centre of Le Havre
I felt that Perret and his team had avoided the monotony often associated with system
buildings of the 1960’s. Perret and his team seem to have found different ways
of detailing concrete ensuring that, though there is a degree of unity, there
is sufficient variety too. It is possible to argue that the ultimate uniformity
comes from repetition of the window unit.
Christian Norberg-Schulz argues that the
proportions of French windows were determined by the quality of French light,
something felt to be unique, from the age of stained glass to the time of the
Impressionists. The proportions of the classical French window ensure that the
window reaches down to the floor. The
balcony frontage ensures
“inhabitants can participate in the life of the street below”,
indicating that “mixed-use” was once a natural component of the French city.
There are several sites within
the city with a claim to the city’s Stadtkrowne
or city crown , such as the Oscar Niemeyer
buildings or centre of municipal government, Hotel de Ville. The Church of
Saint Joseph by Perrett is for me my nomination for candidate for this title. As an ecclesiastical
architect, Perret tends to be remembered for buildings such as Notre Dame du Raincy,
often viewed as a sort of reinterpretation of a Gothic idiom. This attitude was
always simplistic, stylistic and shallow. In that building he employed vaulting
techniques in innovative ways even if the stained glass seemed to owe something
to precedent. At St Joseph in Le Havre, he allows his modernist instincts a
much freer reign. It side steps any
attempt to reproduce the spatial qualities of France’s medieval cathedrals. If
you are looking for a historical precedent perhaps the centralised, Greek cross
plan is a relevant example here or the Adolf Loos design for the Chicago Tribune building. Quite
unprecedented is the single unified
space at the centre of the building, a
column of light extending some 84m into
the air. Highly impressive are the concrete finishes, detailing and structure
such as the cross-bracing to the tower. Concrete as a material with
architectural potential occasionally comes back into fashion. Here Perret’s building sets exemplary standards which are still relevant
today.
St Joseph by Perret
The rectilinear architecture
which makes up most of the centre of Le Havre, of course, seems highly fashionable
today. More surprising is the evident success of the centre, devoid of the
stigma of social failure often associated with
high-density housing and “New
Towns”. Although you can argue how
successful the French New Towns program has been, Le Havre certainly seemed a great improvement on many British new towns and does not
require the sort of regeneration currently being undertaken in Bracknell.
Travelling through France, by car
if not by train, it is surprising to what extent out-of-town retail parks have
been given the “green light” by French
authorities. Again and again, I came
across towns whose outskirts consisted of large retail parks, developments
which would make Las Vegas look like a model of restraint and elegance. This is certainly not the case in Holland
where retail is usually integrated into mixed-use developments. When I arrived
at Tours I stayed in a hotel in a huge
retail development, with the small consolation of a tram line that would take
me into the town centre. Public space is generally well designed in France so
perhaps they need to re-invent the notion of mixed-use.
The French are not exactly famous
for an addiction to suburbia so how exactly has the vitality of French town
centres seeped away? An interesting
article appeared on this subject in The New York Times where it seems that the decline of
provincial towns has reached the level of a
malaise.
The route I traversed passed by
many key sites of Gothic architecture. The
theorist seeking a guide to these buildings can turn to many sources; Ruskin was often
considered to be the essential source of authority on this subject, though, in
fact, he had some very strange views on the subject. He regarded Venice as the
essential home of Gothic architecture when, in fact, it originated in France.
Venice and Britain were regarded as nations with parallel destinies; one the home of a once-great maritime empire, the other Britain when its own empire was at its height. Many of his writings should be regarded as poetic interpretations
of architecture and, in that sense, they excel. Another potential theoretical
source might be Pugin though he tended
to see everything in terms of religious fundamentalism. For a rational, technical, Cartesian interpreter
of Gothic a better guide
to Gothic would be Viollet-le-Duc.
Viollet-le-Duc had an upbringing
rather typical of his time; anti-clerical, secular, republican. He became one
of the chief figures of the Gothic revival in 19th Century Europe.
His success as a restorer of Gothic architecture was cemented by the commission
to restore Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris; the support of
Victor Hugo, the author of the novel “Notre Dame de Paris” , was crucial in
obtaining this commission.
The period of Gothic architecture
can be rightly seen as one of the most innovative periods in the entire history
of architecture, a period made possible by two technical innovations, the
pointed arch and the flying buttress. Roman (and Romanesque) Architecture
utilised semi-circular arches, which because they usually rise to the same
height, usually imply square bays. With pointed arches, however, by varying the
steepness of the angle of the arches or ribs it was possible to achieve
rectangular bays or indeed rhomboidal or polygonal shaped structures. Gothic
Architecture was thus able to achieve a level of spatial complexity not
previously achieved by Roman and Romanesque Architecture. The flying buttress was also a technical
innovation of equal importance. Buttresses had been used before, for example,
in large works of Roman architecture such as thermae and basilicas. Buttresses
of this type had been built at regular intervals along walls whose top
consisted of the springing for groin or barrel vaulting. Their mass helped to
resist the spreading movement of the vaulting above. The innovation that Gothic
architecture made was to separate the buttress from the building, joining it
with an arch. This made large clerestory windows possible and removed
shadow-casting buttresses instead flooding the interiors with natural light.
Viollet-le-Duc argues that many of the features of Gothic
architecture were generated by the nature of the construction process in France
in the 12th and 13th Centuries. Stone was the natural
material to use as quarries were
plentiful. Stone was an expensive material which had to be used economically
hence it had to be used in an efficient way. Features such as ribs in the
vaulting had been generated by the needs of the construction process. The ribs
had been erected first on timber centering; the shell infill added later
without the need for more centering (Viollet-le-Duc argues unconvincingly that
this was necessary due to timber shortages).
He finds a functional
justification for every aspect of the finished design. The ribs in the vaulting
act, for instance, act as reinforcement to what is basically a groin vault. In
a typical Gothic cathedral the buttress is separated from the main building by
an arch, partly to let more light in through the clerestory and partly to allow
people move around the outside to clean the windows. The buttress is surmounted
by a large mass of stone in order to weigh the buttress down and prevent it
from overturning. The opening between the arcade and clerestory, known as the
triforium, is there to help lighten the structure. All the mouldings have a
functional justification too. Externally they throw off rain-water; internally
they act as footings to vaulting or corbels to indicate level. Viollet-le-Duc
is not opposed to ornament but believes it is secondary. All ornament is based on local flora or an enrichment, never a distortion, of the essential structure.
Most of Viollet-le-Duc’s theories
about the functionality of Gothic architecture are to some extent rational and
to some extent hypothetical; a more genuinely scientific answer to these
questions might be found in the writings
of the American academic, Robert Mark.
When one reads a writer like
Christopher Alexander, it becomes clear that it is something of a myth that the
origins of Gothic architecture lie in the work of Abbot Suger at the cathedral
of St-Denis. The reality is rather more complicated. I recall my surprise, many
years ago, at seeing pointed arches in Durham Cathedral in what is clearly a
Romanesque building. Alexander states
that these arches were built between 1120 and 1133. The West front and Choir of the Abbey of St. Dennis were begun in 1140 , followed shortly after by the
commencement of construction on the Cathedral of Notre Dame between 1150 and 1155.
The first major Gothic
building I visited was the cathedral of
Chartres. With its vertical quality and green roof it appears like a great ship
sailing across rural France, dominating the surrounding countryside. One of its
most initially arresting qualities is the asymmetrical towers. Their disparity can
be explained by their construction dates. The rebuilt north tower was finished
in 1514, whereas the south tower was finished in 1155. The latter was built at a time when the new architecture was
ridding itself of the last vestiges of Romanesque influence whereas the influence of Flamboyant
tracery was at its peak when the north
tower was completed.
Cathedral of Chartres
In addition to its tectonic
qualities, Chartres is a triumph of decorative art. It has the most admired
stained-glass of any cathedral in France. Almost equally admired is the
stunning sculptures on its west, north and south portals.
When I arrived the building was
surrounded by French soldiers, a reflection of the state of emergency the
French government had placed the country under. I was not even allowed to take
a penknife inside. However, I was able
to walk round the outside, admiring the
flying buttresses. The roof is covered by quadripartite vaulting, i.e. a single
bay of what is basically a pointed groin vault covers one bay of the arcade.
From Chartres I went onto Le Mans
to visit the cathedral, almost the only
outstanding piece of architecture I saw in a very disappointing town. I paused
to admire the flying buttresses, one of
the most impressive examples of this kind of tectonic form along with Beauvais
and then travelled onwards to Bourges.
Cathedral of Le Mans
The Cathedral of Bourges provides
much food for thought regarding the development of Gothic. Rather like the
Cathedral of Wells, the west facade is
dominated by two towers, albeit that in this
example, the main feature seems to a
rather curious lozenge-shaped window.
The interior, despite the fact that it has no transept , is one of the
most extraordinary of any French Gothic cathedral. The building has double
aisles, unlike Chartres where these occur only at the ambulatory towards the
east end. The clerestory windows are much smaller. The overall vaulting feels
much more spacious, the sense of rhythm, regarding the spaces and the way in
which they progress towards the east end is entirely different. This is hardly
surprising since Bourges utilises sexpartite
vaulting. Each bay of vaulting covers two of arcade. The vault has a six-fold
division instead of four by the addition of ribs across the central space, half
way between the diagonal ribs. This means the top of the arcades alternate as a
springing point for one rib on one
pillar and for three at the next.
Cathedral of Bourges
When compared to Chartres it
becomes a moot point regarding which building is more progressive in terms of
aesthetic and technical development. Bourges was begun in 1192, Chartres in
1194. The buttress system used at Chartres is massive apart from the relatively
light upper flyers. Each tall pier buttress weighs about one million kilograms
exclusive of its foundations. This can be contrasted with Bourges where each
pier weighs four hundred thousand kilograms, a more economical approach. The
more acute flying buttresses at Bourges transmit the vaulting load directly to
the ground. The buttresses at Chartres have three elements; the light upper
flyer, the two heavy lower flyers linked by a series of colonettes and also the
triangular wall under the side aisle roof.
By contrast the flying buttresses
at Chartres are described by Robert Mark as
“relatively ponderous – even somewhat clumsy from a technological point
of view.”
The purpose of the upper flyer
has often caused controversy among writers on architecture. In Chartres the
clerestory windows drop well below the springing of the vaults. The upper flyer
connects with the exterior of the building on a level equal to the top of the
clerestory and hence cannot receive any of the outward thrust of the roof
vaults. To understand their real purpose, it is probably necessary to visualise
a ship’s sails. By conducting analysis tests on models, Robert Mark concluded
that their purpose was to resist wind loading.
In the development from Early to
High Gothic there is also a development
from sexpartite to quadripartite vaulting. This can be explained in both in
aesthetic and technical terms.
It can be argued that the crucial
building in Gothic structural development is
Notre Dame in Paris. The vaulting in Notre Dame in Pars is sexpartite,
that is each bay has six ribs in it. One bay of sexpartite vaulting covers two
bays of the arcade. In French Gothic cathedrals vertical shafts usually run from
the arcade to the vaulting visually connecting the two. If the cathedral has
sexpartite vaulting, the springing alternates between a pier capital receiving
one rib and alternate pier capitals
receiving three. This rhythm was often accompanied by an alternating rhythm in
the wall shafts i.e. in Laon cathedral the support shafts alternate between
three and five. It also has horizontal bands .
From an aesthetic point of view,
quadripartite vaults have an entirely different spatial quality. Each bay is rectangular in shape.
Each bay of vaulting covers one bay of arcade. This helps to create a sense of
unity to the interior. Rectangular bays have a sense of movement to them,
unlike the stasis of square bays. Whether or not this was an aesthetic advance
is debatable.
Alternatively, the development
from sexpartite to quadripartite vaulting can be justified on technical
grounds. Some people have thought that quadripartite vaulting was actually
lighter but scientific tests have shown that sexpartite vaulting is actually
lighter. The technical advantage of quadripartite vaulting lies in the way they
transmit longitudinal forces. These are the forces that run along the axis of
the main nave and choir. The force of the thrust of the roof vaults as it meets
the springing usually translates into
three components; a downward thrust down the nave wall, an outward thrust
perpendicular to the axis of the nave, resisted by the flying buttresses and
finally a longitudinal thrust against the adjacent wall. As Early Gothic
developed into Highly Gothic clerestories became larger. On either side of the
vault there was no longer stone, as at Bourges, but glass as at
Chartres. Hence ways had to be found to reduce the longitudinal thrust
along the nave and choir. Sexpartite vaults, because the greater angle they
meet the wall and the way in which the number of ribs alternates, exert more
longitudinal force. Quadripartite vaulting directs more of the force directly
out to the flying buttresses. Hence the move towards quadripartite vaulting and larger
clerestories are part of one technical development.
There remains the question: how
are these building to be run and maintained? The journalist Simon Jenkins has
argued that cathedrals should now be viewed as part of a city’s cultural assets
like a city art gallery or symphony orchestra.
At Tours I
was able to visit the Vinci Conference Centre
designed by Jean Nouvel. This building
has three auditoria and exhibition space enabling it to host a variety of
activities, from music performances to pharmaceutical conferences. The exhibition spaces are largely
column-free: the load-bearing structure only touches the ground at a few
points, the auditoria being suspended on cable structures. Here one of the building’s
administrators, Monsieur Henry Rivoire, demonstrates the top of one of the junctions
of column and cable structures.
When photographing a Jean Nouvel building
I really think you should take the Claude Monet approach: visit the building in
every conceivable state of natural light and try to capture every variety of
image. However, time constraints made such an approach impossible to I was left
with the possibilities of one sunny afternoon. To quote Jean Nouvel as narrated
by Conway Lloyd Morgan:
“Traditional architecture was based on fixing
solid and void. This approach overlooked the primacy of light….For me, light is
matter, and light is a material, a basic material. Once you understand how
light varies, and varies our perceptions, your architectural vocabulary is
immediately extended, in ways classical architecture never thought of. An architecture of
ephemerality becomes possible…..mutable ones, changed by light and changing
with light. Not only through changes in daylight, but through changing the
interior lighting of the building, and playing with different opacities and
transparencies………..My buildings are planned around five, six, or seven
different sets of lighting conditions, from the start. Had I started with just
one set - as some other architects still
do - the result would be very different:
but not acceptable to me!”
Conference center in Tours by Jean Nouvel
The journey ended at Nantes, near the mouth of The Loire.
I visited newly regenerated residential neighbourhoods which seemed like
places where people would actually want to live, unlike the Le Mans,
desperately in need of regeneration. I did not
have time to photograph these neighbourhoods in Nantes. I did, however, have time to visit and
photograph a new cultural quarter, on
the banks of the river in the southwest of the city.
The foundation project in this
quarter seemed to be a building which housed the function of law courts, a work
also by Jean Nouvel. With characteristic
Nouvel thoroughness, it seemed as if a whole range of light conditions had
planned for the building. The Cartesian grid which is carried throughout the
whole building might, I suppose, be seen, as a symbol of fairness and
rationality.
Law Courts building in Nantes by Jean Nouvel
The quarter also contained an architecture centre which contained an exhibition of projects for the region, both
planned and realised. As well as residential projects there seemed to be an ecole
des beaux arts going up next door. Pride
of place seemed to belong to a new school of architecture by Vactal &
Lasson.
The demise of French culture,
often predicted, seems premature; on the contrary, French
architecture is alive and well today.
Gothic-revival building in London
Notre Dame, Paris
(In writing this piece the author
referenced texts by Viollet-le-Duc, Ruskin, Christopher Wilson, Robert Mark and
Conway Lloyd Morgan. All photos and drawings by author.)
