It is a warm September day in Paris. In the Port de l‘Arsenal, an inner harbor south of the Bastille, the boats belonging to leisure-time captains jostle for space. A line of trees separates the embankment promenade from the Boulevard de la Bastille, but the house at number 36 already strikes me from a distance. In place of the gray-beige sandstone or black cast-iron balustrades characteristic of downtown Paris, here a red-brick façade and finely structured concrete supports tell of an industrial past. People are constantly to-ing and fro-ing from the entrance to the former factory building. Taxis pull up and good-looking people carrying thick folders get out. I follow them into the building and upstairs, and find that a modeling agency on the third floor is running a casting for the upcoming Paris fashion week. A long corridor leads me ever deeper into the building. A door opens and in a bright, sun- glazed room surrounded by books, renderings, and models, I finally begin my interview with Manuelle Gautrand. We discuss urban games of chess, glass origami, and built emotion.
Madame Gautrand, when did you realize that you wanted to become an architect?
When I was seventeen. I knew that I wanted to take up an artistic profession but for a long time I was not sure which one. After my school graduation exams I decided it should be architecture. So I cannot claim that I was absolutely sure at the age of three (laughs).
What memories do you have of your studies?
They were a little frustrating because I did not believe that the school was all that good. In France the architecture schools are not that good in general. When I had finished my studies, I was really dissatisfied with what I had learned. It was only when I started to work that I gained professional experience and learned how to deal with my own creativity. My studies did not give me much in those respects.
But was there a professor who influenced you?
Yes, my sculpture professor. We primarily analyzed contemporary art, so I got to know it very well. However, in regard to the practical side of things, I can hardly remember the projects we worked on. What I enjoyed about sculpture was its open, fresh approach – something I found lacking in architecture and in my architecture professors. Even today, I think I tend to seek my inspiration outside of architecture, be it from landscapes, cities, or sometimes fashion.
The influence of sculptural design is especially evident in your façades, which are anything but strictly organized. You experienced a breakthrough career moment with the opening of the Citroën C42 showroom on the Champs-Élysées in Paris. Its façade is an undulating ribbon that merges seamlessly into the roof. How did you arrive at this design?
I must admit that I wasn’t much of a car fan to begin with. So I started by trying to immerse myself into the universe of automobiles and looking at how they are made and sold. Then it struck me that above all the DS, to date Citroën’s most beautiful model, resembles an endless curve. The showroom on the Champs-Élysées works the same way: it resembles the body of a car – the façade and the roof merge seamlessly.Yes, but that does not explain the folding...
The folding is very important because it tells of the building’s contents. The Citroën logo is a double inverted V that I find very attractive. In referencing this shape, the façade can embody the brand without having to feature the brand name, Citroën. The Japanese practice of origami allows one to express a feeling for an object through a fold. I tried to do the same with my building. It is an origami of glass.
»I tend to seek my inspiration outside of architecture, be it from landscapes, cities, or sometimes fashion.«
Large-sized glass façades can often appear cold or even banal. But the folding produces a differentiated play of light and shadow. What effect did you want to achieve with it?
A folded, glass facade recalls a kaleidoscope, which reflects the surrounding buildings or the sky. The reproduction is not a normal mirror, but instead divided into many different facets. This aspect was very important to me – I did not want the building to appear solid and lose something of its material quality. Each of the round platforms used to present the vehicles has a folded, reflective underside. When you climb up the stairs, the colors of the cars are reflected, while their shapes are almost completely obscured from below. This makes going through the building much more exciting because not everything is recognizable at first sight. The mirrors not only allow a new interpretation of the cars but also function a little like the disco globes in a nightclub, casting the diffuse light through the room.
»It is important for the architecture to sweat out a little of what is happening inside.«
So you wanted to communicate with the public space?
Yes, because most of my buildings are located in cities, which is why I would like to open them to the street, rather than making them asocial, autistic. Every building in a city is an orientation point and should play a role like a figure in a game of chess. Creating a connection between a building and its setting need not necessarily mean making its façade transparent; experimenting with volumes or colors can also make the function understandable. It is important for the architecture to sweat out a little of what is happening inside.
How do you approach a project?
I first think about the context and what is required of the building. That is normal. But at the same time I also try to think about the materials, the colors, and the atmosphere I want to create. What is the building’s relationship to light? Should the architecture let light into it or not? Should it be transparent or opaque? For me these aspects are just as deeply rooted in architecture as the function of a building or its connection to the site. It is important that a museum does not look like an office building.
Tell us about the work you do in your studio. How does the design process evolve?
We always work very intensively with models from the very start. In each and every project I try to play through as many different scenarios as possible. After all, each of these possible solutions contributes something to the final outcome. I spend a lot of time analyzing individual ideas before selecting the right one. However, there is still a very long way to go even after the first volume is built. I also try to be inventive with every project, either in relation to the function of the building, its context, or to the materials used. My work is not a linear process. In the beginning things often proceed very quickly, but then there is always a point at which things falter and we start to struggle for one, two, or three weeks. That is also normal. In such moments it is important to talk a lot with each other so as to find a logical explanation for a proposal. Language is an important design tool.
You have a broad spectrum of work: you design cultural buildings like theaters and museums, and you also plan office buildings, residential buildings, and bridges. One typology to which you have applied yourself more in recent years is the high-rise. What pushes you up to such dizzying heights?
Naturally, for every architect building a tower is a heroic act just waiting to be accomplished. And I am no exception. But my interest also arose from a certain criticism. After all, although there are ever more towers in the world, only a handful of them are really interesting. Most high-rises tower up into the sky really brashly and brutally without being connected to the ground. Yet the first thing that you see of a high-rise when you are near is its base. I think that at this point it needs a human, almost intimate scale. Conversely, from a distance it is the tip that is especially eye-catching and less the body of the tower. So it is important not to ignore these zones. A high-rise always forms three sequences of understanding.
Although you did not win the competitions for the Tour Phare (2006) or the Tour Signal (2008), in 2008 you were able to secure a large-scale project in Paris’s new high-rise district, La Défense. This was the construction of the 140-meter-high Tour AVA. Why were you able to beat out your rivals with your design?
The project was not easy at the beginning because the site is bisected by a motorway. Initially, we only had the site at the northwest side of the street to work with. So I suggested making the building larger and pushing it below the viaduct. The developer was very taken with this proposal because it meant shifting the building’s entrance to the center of La Défense and the motorway loses its visual presence. The tower will rise up 140 meters vertically with a 200-meter-long base, so the building is actually more horizontal in thrust.
You also employed the motif of folding in your design of the base section.
»Naturally, for every architect building a tower is a heroic act just waiting to be accomplished. And I am no exception.«
Yes, the entrance is placed underneath the motorway like a large awning and creates a small entrance piazza. It provides protection from the rain and features a screen of LEDs underneath. This roof, which will be lit day and night, will be a projection screen for short films or digital art. I often work on cultural projects such as theaters or concert halls. My affinity with this cosmos also provides me with ideas for other projects, which do not initially have a direct link to culture. I am not trying to make architecture theatrical but I would like people to experience something in it.
In other words, architecture becomes a medium?
Absolutely. I do not want my buildings to be neutral, even if they are simply places where people work. Architecture should evoke emotion. Whether we live, work, or watch a play in a building, it can offer us an experience. It is important that the architecture is infused with a conscious scenography.
Your most important project to date was the conversion of the Gaîté Lyrique in Paris. You transformed the operetta theater from the 1870s into a center for contemporary music that opened in December 2010. Despite your pleas for an emotional architecture there is an almost neutral feel to the rooms for concerts, film presentations and performances. Why?
It is important to create a strong, independent architecture without going too far. In some places the Gaîté Lyrique is highly expressive – say, in the mobile elements, which double as lighting. The technology is very sophisticated so that you can do anything you like in these rooms. But at the same time, thanks to the gray floor, white walls, and black performance spaces, the building itself remains in the background. With cultural projects it is important to hand on the baton to other artists. You must give them the opportunity to express themselves in the spaces, so they aren’t overly restricted by too expressive an architectural gesture.
Thank you very much for the interview.
»I do not want my buildings to be neutral, even if they are simply places where people work.«
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