RUINATION

Architect Peter Zumthor is best known for his understatement, and best appreciated by other architects, who understand how difficult it is to execute spaces with a reduced, minimalist look. Visiting Kolumba, the art gallery he designed for the archdiocese of Koln, I was, predictably, impressed by details: the inch-high brick coursing, the flush metal plate door frames, the black plaster finish on the restroom walls, the fastidiously book-marked wood paneling in the library, the bent metal pins supporting the stair handrails. The gallery spaces themselves are finished in a luminous, ash-colored concrete. The floors, ceilings and walls meet simply, without trims or reveals, so that the concrete folds seamlessly from surface to surface. It creates an atmosphere of quiet and sobriety.

Kolumba was built on the site of a centuries-old church and, during excavation, layers of remains from older churches were found, some dating to the eleventh century, all piled upon one another. The ruins were dutifully preserved and are housed in a pavilion, also designed by Zumthor, attached to the new gallery building. One reaches the ruins by walking from the gallery lobby through huge steel doors and a heavy leather curtain. Inside the pavilion there’s a zigzagging wood walkway, raised a foot off the ground, that gives views to the ruins below, all around. The space is dramatically dark, lit only by daylight filtered down through open brickwork at clerestory level, and a handful of cone-shaped pendant lamps.

This pavilion is charged with a theatricality that’s at odds with the quietness of the adjoining galleries. The walkway is clumsy; its handrails are heavy, its wood is stained a garish red, and its jagged course has no apparent logic. Perhaps the departure from Zumthor’s typical restrained vocabulary is meant to emphasize that this is a contemporary structure that’s been inserted into an old, sacred space. Instead it feels like a poor addition, as if it had been authored by a different, less gifted architect.

Photo © Jose Fernando Vazquez-Perez

September 07, 2015 by Nalina Moses

BATS IN THE BELFRY

I passed tranquil days during my German holiday at Kloster Eberbach, a monastery founded in the twelfth century that’s now a winery and hotel. It’s tucked in the hills above Eltville am Rheim, a charming medeival village along the river. The Kloster’s grounds are lush, planted with lawns, fruit trees, and flower beds. The Kloster’s buildings are in various states of repair. Those that house the hotel, restaurant, gift shop and winery were just recently renovated and offer every amenity. The church, the heart of the Kloster, has a fresh look. Its facade is finished in sparkling white stucco and bright red trim, and its steep roofs in slate tile. Its interior has been stripped of generations of paint and plaster, to unadorned stone block, giving a spare, romantic feeling. (Parts of The Name of the Rose were filmed here.)

The monastery buildings, a short walk from the church, on lower ground, are currently being restored, with an unusually gentle hand. They’re organized around a small, grassy courtyard with a fountain and a tower. The low stone walls along the walkways are cut through with tall grasses and flowers – with weeds – and are left untended. A dining hall that was converted to a winery five centuries ago has also been left as it is. Its monstrous wood presses, rusting railings, cobwebs, and damp give off a strong sense of decay. The exterior of the library, a narrow two-story structure that separates the cloister from the lay brothers’ dormitory, has been cleaned and repainted. But the giant timber beams that frame its second floor sag visibly, almost comically. The chapter house, a low, stone room with a single central column, is home to families of sparrows. A sign inside explains that the birds are not to be disturbed. This lackadaisical (and un-German) style of historical restoration feels right. There’s sense, and grace, in allowing these old buildings to settle, naturally, and give themselves over to other uses.

August 12, 2015 by Nalina Moses