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A
Conversation with Raimund Abraham
with
Gregory Zucker
Q:
Earlier, we spoke about the difference between architecture and
“buildings”. Could you explain what you meant?
A:
I consider architecture a discipline, not a profession. Considering the
classic periods of architecture, architecture was more or less confined to
the sacred and political power. Architecture represented a spiritual
device and now it is considered that it should merely ornament our lives.
I
think the major break in history occurred at the beginning of the
twentieth century. When the old social or the known social structures
collapsed: no more monarchies and a new society emerged. With that new
society entered an evolution in technology. You had new programs so
architecture became synonymous with the new ideologies and the power of
the worker in work more than celebrating the sacred, so, for example, you
had the factories and workers’ housing. Now it appears that almost any
domain can be expressed through architecture. Maybe this is true. Yet, for
me architecture’s role is to elevate the profane with the sacred. If you
succeed in making architecture, the sacred has to prevail. That means that
in the most profane or the most pragmatic program, the program
always has to succumb to this period of the sacred whether it is a small
house, a cathedral or a temple.
It
is the nature of making things which I believe is the true foundation for
any artistic discipline, whether it’s film-making, architecture,
painting, or sculpture. This whole “making” is challenged by new
technology. The technology is totally divorced from the “making”
because ultimately you make things with your hands. When I met Jonas Mekas
and other experimental filmmakers, I was inspired by the idea that you
only need a camera to make a film. Similarly, you can reduce the making of
architecture to a piece of paper and a pencil. Even if I don’t build,
when I make an architectural drawing I construct it so I always anticipate
the physicality, the decay, the atrophy of material in the metal so this
has to do with making. There’s incredible precision. The beautiful
mystery of architecture is rooted in the precision of how to put one stone
on top of the other. It’s not the stone itself; it’s the cut in
between the stones, the seam. The precision of the emphasis is the
principle of structure. How they are joined or how they are divorced.
As
an architect it is very important that you distinguish between different
realities. There’s the reality of the drawing and the reality of the
building. So one could say, or at least it is the common belief that
architecture has to be built; I always denied that, because ultimately it
is based on an idea. I don’t ever need a building to verify my idea. Of
course, what with a building is more its vanity and actual physical
experience. But I anticipate; I wouldn’t even build it if I could not
anticipate how it would be.
Q:
Once the building is actually built the public is forced to deal with it.
How should architecture relate to the public?
A:
It has to relate to program. Without program you can’t have
architecture, but the program has to be translated; it has to be
challenged by the ideal of the discipline. So the program can never
dominate. It’s a conflict, which, of course, does not exist in film
because film is done and then it is shown to the public. It is
self-contained, while architecture is not because when it is built it is
the offered for use. It all depends on how you define “use’”
philosophically. ‘”Use” can either be a celebration of function,
which ultimately in its optimal implication would be a Fascist result
because it would be completely covered by how the program had been
implemented. So in architecture I think the program has to be
reinterpreted. Even on a very basic level. For example, when the artists
discovered the lofts in New York, completely new ways of living were
offered because they had universal space. If you compare loft-living with
an apartment where you have an entrance, you have a living room, a
bedroom, and a bathroom, your life is defined by the nature of the rooms.
Thus, the more, I’d say, bourgeois inhabiting those spaces becomes.
It’s more oppressive because then life becomes a habit and I believe
that architecture has a role of challenging that habit at all times. It
becomes a creative force in your life. Architecture has that
ability, otherwise it would just be too oppressive, too
influential, and perhaps it would dictate the way you behave in
space.
In
order to build something you have to violate the site. You dig a hole in
the ground, which means you violate. That’s why the Indians only build
teepees or build their permanent structures of stone on the rocks and
never violated out of respect for the earth. So there is this conflict
between the structure and the site. The reconciliation is that you create
the formal conditions, a new equilibrium. The equilibrium you have
intervened into and disturbed has to be reconciled. That is really
the role of architecture.
Q:
And what about your project in China?
A:
Like many other sites in China, they have erased all traces of what was
there before. So I had to create my own memory. Instead of intervening in
a landscape, as I discussed before, I had to imagine the block, with
houses, whatever function it had and then I carved into the block. So the
block became actually an extension of the earth. And then of course the
challenge was how to geometricize that. It was an emotional act from the
first moment I held that chisel; that chisel bit the block, then I started
to translate that emotional topography into a constructible geometric
landscape. And so every single point in the landscape now is defined.
Q:
I see, but you’re dealing with a culture that has a very long history of
architecture.
A:
This history is completely ignored by the present so-called ruling class.
I feel like China wants to do, or is more or less successfully doing, what
took the industrialized world, like America, a hundred years. They’re
doing it in ten and, of course, there is a consequence. The culture is in
danger. The only part of their culture that you can still sense is their
food.
The
real conflict is between the land and the city. All this progress, this
obsession with reaching the top level of progress in industrialization in
the world leaves all the peasants behind. Eighty percent of China is made
up of peasants. This is also the lifeline for the country and there’s no
program of how to cope now with that conflict of the poverty in the
country and the new wealth in the cities. It’s apocalyptic out there.
Beijing was a horizontal city, only pagodas, and the architecture was
visible or reached above the horizon of the houses. Now they just have
left a small portion of it, which is now being gentrified; its becoming
like a SoHo and so that’s what you witness there.
Q:
I am interested in hearing your critique of the project at Ground Zero, as
well as hearing your explanation for the design you proposed.
A:
There was no hope from day one that the commercial world would really go
for an architectural gesture that would be as radical as the event they
claimed 9/11 was. Instead of saying, “Okay, now Mr. Silverstein, let’s
get you some architects to build the most efficient commercial buildings
there,” they tried to cover their intentions by saying, “Okay, now we
need architecture.” From day one, the project was a disguised commercial
site plan. It is very clear that when the pragmatic force starts to
dominate that process, they will do whatever they want and then more or
less declare the imprints of the two commercial towers as sacred because
of the original event. I think that is blasphemy. It’s a fake…you see
that’s what I called it at the beginning: the necessity of architecture
to celebrate the sacredness; this is just the opposite. It’s fake
sacredness.
What
I made was a metaphoric proposal. I just had three gigantic blocks which
formed three walls, parallel walls on the side, and then I chose the
moments when the event occurred, when the first plane and the second plane
hit the towers. Then, when the first tower collapsed and when the second
tower collapsed, simply as moments of an event. I located the sun
vertically and horizontally for each of those time frames. I cut through
those three walls in that angle of the sun. So, in a way, you caught the
moment, a moment without any kind of a narrative reference. When you would
be standing in that cut, at that particular moment in time, the sun would
hit you. The architecture would celebrate and essentially revive that
space and time, which became synonymous.
The
Austrian Cultural Forum -
perspective view from front |
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| The Austrian
Cultural Forum - interior staircase |
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Special thanks to http://www.logosjournal.com/
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