Choosing not to be iconic

In the fields of historic preservation and sustainable development, the basic framework of discussions has shifted from individual buildings to urban landscapes over the last 30 years. The architectural community, by contrast, has yet to make this shift en masse. The most celebrated architecture of the last three decades has been sensational buildings that are not easily integrated into the existing architectural landscape. Architectural critics and the public alike have flocked to these “iconic” structures—think of the Sydney Opera House and the Bilbao Guggenheim Museum as the archetypal examples.

Iconic architecture can, sometimes, benefit cities. After all, it was Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim that put Bilbao, Spain, on the world cultural map. But as both critics and the public are beginning to realize, efforts to create iconic structures most often end in failure, and cities are left with expensive, shoddily constructed, would-be great buildings. These attempts at iconic architecture are, I think, fundamentally antithetical to both historic preservation and sustainable development, to both smart preservation and smart progress. For one, so-called iconic buildings are meant to be flashy, to overwhelm their surroundings rather than complementing them, to destroy the urban coherence that comes from a balance between old and new. So too do iconic buildings use enormous amounts of materials for non-functional purposes, and they tend to follow the latest trends rather than being built to last.

I wish that we spent more time recognizing architecture that is magnificent in situ rather than only magnificent stand-alone buildings. I would like to shift from focusing on the places that make a city an attractive place to visit to focusing on those that make a city an attractive place to live. I wish that we spent more time celebrating architecture as a craft instead of only as a high art.

For this reason, I am interested in a current construction project in central Copenhagen that can only be described as anti-iconic. Under the direction of Realea, the Danish organization that worked on the Fæstningens Materialgård project, developers will finally complete the square surrounding the beloved Marble Church.

The original buildings on this site are some of the grandest, most glamorous ones in Copenhagen. The centerpiece of the square is, of course, the Marble Church, a landmark building whose construction began in 1749 but was not completed for over a century. At the end of the 19th century, the wealthy Danish industrialist Carl Frederik Tietgen determined to finish the project, deciding to build up the surrounding square as a way of raising the funds necessary for the church. While Tietgen did manage to complete the Marble Church, he was unable to acquire one of the surrounding properties. The plan for the square as a whole was therefore never fully realized, and this part of the site has become known as “Tietgen’s annoyance.” While generations of architects have tried to fill in this unfinished area, none has succeeded.

Realea’s latest building project will finally complete this centuries-long saga. On Tietgen's unfinished site, Realea will construct a five-story multiple-use building designed by Tony Fretton Architects. It is certainly risky to build on a property that has proved the downfall of so many previous architects, that is such a central part of Copenhagen’s architectural heritage, and that tends to evoke strong reactions from nearly all Copenhageners. Nonetheless, I do believe that this project has found a workable balance between respecting the old and promoting the new, between looking backward and stepping forward.

For one, the new building is designed to reconcile multiple architectural traditions. It will share the height, the coloring, and the basic façade style of the neighboring buildings, and will be used for residential and commercial purposes, as the existing buildings have also evolved to do. The new structure will acknowledge rather than attempt to outdo the greatness of the already beloved Marble Church—unlike, say, the recently constructed opera building across the harbor. At the same time, however, it will reinterpret rather than mimic the 19th-century beaux arts style of its surroundings, thereby avoiding the sentimentality or kitsch that often comes with neo-historical styles. Above all, this new building should blend into the existing landscape with honesty as well as humility, respecting both the historic environment into which it will enter and the contemporary period from which it came.

Cities may have room for a flashy building here or there, but if we are to build truly sustainable communities, then more new construction must be designed to last rather than to make a sensational statement. I believe that there are lessons to be learned from this Realea project. Just as Danish architects have embraced masterful renovation and retrofit projects, the time has come to celebrate new construction that is designed with honesty and humility, that respects past and future as well as present.