REVIEWS
NOT GETTING FRANK GEHRY
A review of the television documentary, ‘Getting Gehry’, on ABC (2), commissioned as a co-production with the BBC and broadcast on 08/09/2015, which promised an exclusive glimpse into the creative process of the world’s greatest architect, Frank Gehry as he creates his very first building in Australia.
By Philip Drew
Posted 16.09.15
It is rare for Australian television to screen a fresh new feature on architecture—in this instance, the ABC’s documentary on the Chau Chak Wing School of Business at UTS by internationally famed Los Angeles architect, Frank Gehry. It should have been an occasion for celebration—architecture at last was to be examined with insight and intelligence. That, at least was my expectation when I sat down in front of my telly on Tuesday night at 9.30 pm.
The title itself, ‘Getting Frank Gehry’, should have prepared me for disappointment, the word ‘getting’ indicated the tone and what I was in for--as a viewer I was expected to ‘get Frank Gehry’, as though he were an entertainer or Rap singer, and empathise with his way of architecture.
‘Get’ is one of those abused words having a multiplicity of shades of meaning besides the nominal one of "to obtain, gain, or acquire." On this occasion it seemed it meant: " to acquire a mental grasp or command…to hear or understand" something, more specifically, Frank Gehry’s UTS building at Ultimo opposite the ABC Headquarters on Harris Street which opened late in 2014.
The title itself, ‘Getting Frank Gehry’, should have prepared me for disappointment, the word ‘getting’ indicated the tone and what I was in for--as a viewer I was expected to ‘get Frank Gehry’, as though he were an entertainer or Rap singer, and empathise with his way of architecture.
‘Get’ is one of those abused words having a multiplicity of shades of meaning besides the nominal one of "to obtain, gain, or acquire." On this occasion it seemed it meant: " to acquire a mental grasp or command…to hear or understand" something, more specifically, Frank Gehry’s UTS building at Ultimo opposite the ABC Headquarters on Harris Street which opened late in 2014.
It soon became obvious, as the programme proceeded, that I was wrong. Far from it contextualising or deepening one’s understanding of Gehry's architecture, I was expected to come away enthralled and blown away by it. The programme justified itself because Gehry, was, after all, “the world’s greatest architect”. No qualification was offered, no comparison was made: instead I was expected to swallow the assertion whole as an incontestable fact. To his credit, Frank Gehry appeared to be a little uncomfortable and embarrassed, but did not overtly distance himself.
As you would expect, there was considerable focus on the brickwork and the extraordinary lengths to which the builder, Lend Lease, and their bricklayers were required to go to stabilise the place, and stabilise the external walls to prevent them from collapsing altogether. Having watched a newly laid wet panel of brick curl over in slow motion, pushed by a strong breeze from several storeys up and fall to the ground with an exasperating ‘thump’ from a reinforced concrete framed structure, I knew the perils they must have faced.
The heavily folded brick skin was the most exciting and intrinsic aspect of the architectural concept, as outlined by Gehry. In an interview he made the point that he considers the Dr Chau Chak Wing building skin to be the same as a woven textile fabric, draped over the building so it results in producing endless folds and ins-and-outs, even extending the metaphor to include a quite noticeable vertical tear or rent down the east façade. Following Gehry, it appeared he had approached the design much the same way as he had his Guggenheim Bilbao Museum, which was clad in Russian titanium, surplus to its space programme. Instead of titanium, a strong heat-resistant metal, he substituted a tawny, sandstone coloured local brick, having very different physical properties.
As you would expect, there was considerable focus on the brickwork and the extraordinary lengths to which the builder, Lend Lease, and their bricklayers were required to go to stabilise the place, and stabilise the external walls to prevent them from collapsing altogether. Having watched a newly laid wet panel of brick curl over in slow motion, pushed by a strong breeze from several storeys up and fall to the ground with an exasperating ‘thump’ from a reinforced concrete framed structure, I knew the perils they must have faced.
The heavily folded brick skin was the most exciting and intrinsic aspect of the architectural concept, as outlined by Gehry. In an interview he made the point that he considers the Dr Chau Chak Wing building skin to be the same as a woven textile fabric, draped over the building so it results in producing endless folds and ins-and-outs, even extending the metaphor to include a quite noticeable vertical tear or rent down the east façade. Following Gehry, it appeared he had approached the design much the same way as he had his Guggenheim Bilbao Museum, which was clad in Russian titanium, surplus to its space programme. Instead of titanium, a strong heat-resistant metal, he substituted a tawny, sandstone coloured local brick, having very different physical properties.
Brick has been in use in building for at least three-and-a-half thousand years, dating as far back as Babylonia and ancient Egypt. Brick has considerable compressive strength, but is vulnerable loaded in tension or sheer. It is also naturally brittle and subject to cracking should a footing supporting it move.
Gehry appeared entirely unaware and oblivious of these well-known limitations, and handed over to the contractor the problem of how to stabilise the external walls which might likely have to resist tensile loads. The documentary made a good fist of this. We were shown in detail the lengths to which the contractor and his bricklayers were pushed to devise an elaborate network of steel and ties, utilising special grooves running lengthwise along the top of each brick to secure galvanised metal rods which hold each individual course lengthwise. I was reminded of the dentist’s braces that disfigure teenagers’ teeth, whose function is to straighten and align wayward teeth so they grow to be more regular. Unlike dental braces, Lend Lease’s brick braces are concealed at the back of the brick skin so we don’t see them. But it was obvious such an elaborate structure, and the care in placing each individual brick, must have slowed laying the 300,000 or so bricks considerably. It was also apparent that the vertical form with its projections and recesses, demanded extra care, and left the completed skin vulnerable to fine gaps under the overlaps and steeped courses that prompt water penetration via capillary attraction. The programme makers did not question this absurd form of construction, rather, they were enthralled by its complex nature. Later, one of the brickies was filmed having a tattoo of the brickwork on his arm. *
Gehry appeared entirely unaware and oblivious of these well-known limitations, and handed over to the contractor the problem of how to stabilise the external walls which might likely have to resist tensile loads. The documentary made a good fist of this. We were shown in detail the lengths to which the contractor and his bricklayers were pushed to devise an elaborate network of steel and ties, utilising special grooves running lengthwise along the top of each brick to secure galvanised metal rods which hold each individual course lengthwise. I was reminded of the dentist’s braces that disfigure teenagers’ teeth, whose function is to straighten and align wayward teeth so they grow to be more regular. Unlike dental braces, Lend Lease’s brick braces are concealed at the back of the brick skin so we don’t see them. But it was obvious such an elaborate structure, and the care in placing each individual brick, must have slowed laying the 300,000 or so bricks considerably. It was also apparent that the vertical form with its projections and recesses, demanded extra care, and left the completed skin vulnerable to fine gaps under the overlaps and steeped courses that prompt water penetration via capillary attraction. The programme makers did not question this absurd form of construction, rather, they were enthralled by its complex nature. Later, one of the brickies was filmed having a tattoo of the brickwork on his arm. *
None of this, not the total lack of logical construction technique, or the additional cost that such an absurdly silly expression of brick might entail, seemed to trouble Gehry in the least. This was a key to Gehry’s views on architecture. Modern architecture was concerned to express the nature of materials and deploy more efficient structures using advances in materials. Gehry, for his part, does the precise opposite. One need only study the steel scaffold before the outside of the Bilbao museum is sheeted in its titanium skin to appreciate how little the architect is interested in structural integrity. Computers give architects new freedom to explore weird and wonderful shapes but they have not appreciably changed the building process. Complicated free forms such as the one at Ultimo come at the price of torturing brickwork by making it do things that are unnatural and illogical. Buildings are not equivalent to an A-380 Airbus or Boeing 787, for which such three-dimensional computer programmes were developed in the first instance.
The sheer absurdity of the Chau Chak Wing brickwork is illustrated by Hassan Fathy. Fathy discovered that Nubians had developed a technique of laying sun-dried bricks and creating vaulting without a requirement for timber falsework during their construction. This was advantageous in a desert region where wood was scarce. The granaries of the Ramesseum storehouses were built of mud brick 3,400 years ago, and at Touna el Gebel, Fathy found more vaults, 2,000 years old. He concluded that such vaulting was prevalent throughout Egyptian history. It turns out that the Inuit of Canada and Greenland adopt a similar principle of self-supporting units in building their igloos.
The sheer absurdity of the Chau Chak Wing brickwork is illustrated by Hassan Fathy. Fathy discovered that Nubians had developed a technique of laying sun-dried bricks and creating vaulting without a requirement for timber falsework during their construction. This was advantageous in a desert region where wood was scarce. The granaries of the Ramesseum storehouses were built of mud brick 3,400 years ago, and at Touna el Gebel, Fathy found more vaults, 2,000 years old. He concluded that such vaulting was prevalent throughout Egyptian history. It turns out that the Inuit of Canada and Greenland adopt a similar principle of self-supporting units in building their igloos.
In the 21st century, these lessons have been lost and brickwork must have elaborate support systems to stabilise it lest it collapse under its own weight. Nor is curved brick something new and unprecedented. Alvar Aalto, the Finnish master, designed the House of Culture, Helsinki, in 1955-1958, which has languorous curved brickwork. There is a subtle difference when compared to Gehry’s 2014 Ultimo building: Gehry’s curves are much more tight, more agitated and compressed, and unappealing and jolting as a Formula One chicane. Aalto’s curves possess a voluptuous quality, as do his chairs and vases which reference lakes in the Finnish landscape. Aalto’s are gentle curves compared to Gehry’s which are excessive and angry. Not memorable and seductive the way that the outline of hip and legs trace the figure in Velazquez’s Venus with the Mirror, 1651. The association is essentially feminine and sensual. We see this in an art museum whose façade Arata Isozaki took from the famous Marilyn Monroe famous nude from the 1950s. The agitated compression of Gehry’s façade is entirely different, in place of erotic longing, there is an anxiety that underlies today’s pervading mood of disquiet and tension, despite the defiant bravado of the architecture. There is little or no connection or consistency between the outside and the spatial division of the interior. The Chau Chak Wing building is schizophrenic. It exhibits two entirely opposed and disconnected personalities. The interior is largely rectilinear in character, except for the lights which resemble upturned Aalto vases and the reception desks, which assume much the same contorted amoebic qualities as the exterior.
You might expect this would all be explained in the documentary, or, at the very least, dealt with by the many ‘architecture critics’ who are repeatedly interviewed. The majority are American, such as New York’s Paul Goldberger, but Sydney’s Elizabeth Farrelly gets to reiterate her “crumpled paper bag” analogy, recasting Gehry as the Kim Kardashian of architecture. Never have so many experts had so little of substance to contribute. None compares Gehry with his contemporaries, or earlier figures, and none is prepared or willing to criticise Gehry outright. The impression that the Chau Chak Wing building is a great 21st century masterpiece is unchallenged, instead we are left with the conclusion that Sydney has been made glorious by the UTS building.
Gehry himself does contribute a few insights, as does one of his assistants. He tells us that the brick façade on the east side overlooking the goods railway connection to Darling Harbour is meant to be seen against a backdrop of Ultimo’s brick buildings, and the fractured glass façade on Harris Street, vice versa, is meant to be looked at against the glass towers of the city. What Gehry fails to take into account is that this does not happen in reality, the glass west façade is juxtaposed against the Museum of Arts and Crafts, incomparably more impressive with its crafted deployment of brick and sandstone, and the east brick façade blocks any visual comparison with brick Ultimo. It simply does not happen. We are left instead, with a building that has no commonality externally, a building that is two things, neither relating nor connecting meaningfully with the each other.
Gehry himself does contribute a few insights, as does one of his assistants. He tells us that the brick façade on the east side overlooking the goods railway connection to Darling Harbour is meant to be seen against a backdrop of Ultimo’s brick buildings, and the fractured glass façade on Harris Street, vice versa, is meant to be looked at against the glass towers of the city. What Gehry fails to take into account is that this does not happen in reality, the glass west façade is juxtaposed against the Museum of Arts and Crafts, incomparably more impressive with its crafted deployment of brick and sandstone, and the east brick façade blocks any visual comparison with brick Ultimo. It simply does not happen. We are left instead, with a building that has no commonality externally, a building that is two things, neither relating nor connecting meaningfully with the each other.
As to the claim on cost which Gehry, in self-defense, repeated a number of times, the viewer is never informed what the square metre rate and total global cost of the project was, much less, how such cost compares with other recent university business schools such as the new one at the Sydney University. It is pretty obvious, walking around the bare concrete paving outside, and the undeveloped sunken square that supposedly connects the Chau Chak Wing building to Harris Street, that funds were exhausted and drastic cost cutting became necessary at the end.
But as to any serious analysis of the Gehry architecture there is none—not a jot. The programme is aimed at the general viewer, with the idea of making architecture accessible and interesting. Unfortunately, laudable as the aim is, not one on the production team, despite the earnest good intentions, appears to know anything much about the subject of architecture or the history of art. Had they been better informed, they would have recognized that Frank Gehry is a contemporary mannerist - the indications are everywhere, so prominently displayed they are hard to miss. Mannerism is a style development typical of when a culture has exhausted earlier motifs and resorts to affected gestures and inversions of what was the previous norm. It occurred in Italy around 1530 following the exhaustion of the High Renaissance for instance. Gehry is the leading exemplar of postmodern mannerism—all those squiggles and indecipherable scribbles he is so fond of, which some interpret as proof of profound genius, are features of the costume worn by mannerists. Mannerism is also associated with the cult of genius, it happened in Italy in the 15th century and could not be more obvious in the case of Gehry.
But as to any serious analysis of the Gehry architecture there is none—not a jot. The programme is aimed at the general viewer, with the idea of making architecture accessible and interesting. Unfortunately, laudable as the aim is, not one on the production team, despite the earnest good intentions, appears to know anything much about the subject of architecture or the history of art. Had they been better informed, they would have recognized that Frank Gehry is a contemporary mannerist - the indications are everywhere, so prominently displayed they are hard to miss. Mannerism is a style development typical of when a culture has exhausted earlier motifs and resorts to affected gestures and inversions of what was the previous norm. It occurred in Italy around 1530 following the exhaustion of the High Renaissance for instance. Gehry is the leading exemplar of postmodern mannerism—all those squiggles and indecipherable scribbles he is so fond of, which some interpret as proof of profound genius, are features of the costume worn by mannerists. Mannerism is also associated with the cult of genius, it happened in Italy in the 15th century and could not be more obvious in the case of Gehry.
Frank Gehry spent a considerable time early in his career mixing with artists and soaking up their attitudes in Los Angeles' Venice neighbourhood. L.A. itself is a city unduly shaped by film and television, hence given to gossip and worship of personality. Film stars replaced saints, architects are acclaimed as geniuses on the nightly talk shows. Everything is exaggeration without substance or analysis. To that extent, Farrelly’s comparison of Gehry with Kardashian has a point, except she seemed unable to connect the dots. What Gehry achieved in Sydney is the imposition of a Hollywood narcissism on Ultimo, celebrity architecture glorying in its own arbitrary meaninglessness and vacuity - architecture whose only purpose is to publicise itself.
In a calculated way, UTS was clever. Their rival institution up Parramatta Road on the hill has the advantage, or it might seem that way, of being in the enviable position to present itself as the Oxford University of the South Pacific. UTS has countered this by creating a contrasting brand image of itself for an investment of $200 million, as a new university and home of future ideas and technology, appealing to well-heeled Asian consumers. The Dr Chau Chak Wing image is everywhere, on the sides of public buses, in newspapers, on television. The building is UTS’s exclusive advertising image encapsulating what UTS purports to offer. Seen as an advertising vehicle, the added cost is nothing.
The exercise is best summarized by a crude story about a bored lion in a zoo. Tired of stalking up and down his cage, he hit on a novel idea one day. Standing with his rear to the enclosure, he waited until people gathered outside, then let fly with a jet of urine. People screamed, there was a terrible hullabaloo. The lion was very pleased. Repeating the action time after time, the novelty began to wear off and the lion found himself once again falling into despair. He soon realized there was a way to improve his act. Instead of releasing the entire contents of his bladder, he held back and waited. After the first urination scare, visitors from other parts of the zoo would race across to see who had been attacked. When they were all pushed up against the enclosure and unable to escape, the better to see the supposed victim, the lion would release a second much more powerful jet of urine. It was devastating and truly satisfying.
Like the lion, Gehry enjoys the attention his architecture occasions, his celebrity status, which, in turn attracts more clients who wish for nothing more than a building that will make them and their institution famous, and promote free publicity and media attention. Notoriety has its reward since it interrupts the repetition and boredom of everyday life.
Gehry has been criticized, the functionality of his buildings has been questioned, along with their cost. None of this matters in a world dominated by media with an insatiable appetite for the novel, sensational, the biggest or highest, the most expensive. By extremes. Mannerism thrives in such an environment. Gehry simply gives his clients what they want. Whether it amounts to great architecture, or whether Gehry is the world’s greatest architect, time will tell. My guess is that in a century’s time, the likes of Alvar Aalto and Brazil’s Oscar Niemeyer, true masters of curves, will be admired as still great, while Gehry will languish as a forgotten creator of weird sculptures posing as architecture. Gehry wishes us to see his architecture as pure art. Buildings are more than that, they must also be useful, well suited and well built for their purpose. Gehry, for all the attention today, may fade into the background and languish as a curiosity typical of an age of vain entitlement. And, as for the documentary, the ABC will need to do its homework.
* In 2007, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology sued Frank Gehry and a construction company over alleged design and construction failures in MIT's US$300 million Stata Center. MIT alleged that these led to drainage problems, leaks and cracks that involved expensive repairs. Three years later, the suit was settled for an undisclosed amount.
© Philip Drew 2015
Editor's note: the views expressed in this review are purely those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the views of SFAUDi
In a calculated way, UTS was clever. Their rival institution up Parramatta Road on the hill has the advantage, or it might seem that way, of being in the enviable position to present itself as the Oxford University of the South Pacific. UTS has countered this by creating a contrasting brand image of itself for an investment of $200 million, as a new university and home of future ideas and technology, appealing to well-heeled Asian consumers. The Dr Chau Chak Wing image is everywhere, on the sides of public buses, in newspapers, on television. The building is UTS’s exclusive advertising image encapsulating what UTS purports to offer. Seen as an advertising vehicle, the added cost is nothing.
The exercise is best summarized by a crude story about a bored lion in a zoo. Tired of stalking up and down his cage, he hit on a novel idea one day. Standing with his rear to the enclosure, he waited until people gathered outside, then let fly with a jet of urine. People screamed, there was a terrible hullabaloo. The lion was very pleased. Repeating the action time after time, the novelty began to wear off and the lion found himself once again falling into despair. He soon realized there was a way to improve his act. Instead of releasing the entire contents of his bladder, he held back and waited. After the first urination scare, visitors from other parts of the zoo would race across to see who had been attacked. When they were all pushed up against the enclosure and unable to escape, the better to see the supposed victim, the lion would release a second much more powerful jet of urine. It was devastating and truly satisfying.
Like the lion, Gehry enjoys the attention his architecture occasions, his celebrity status, which, in turn attracts more clients who wish for nothing more than a building that will make them and their institution famous, and promote free publicity and media attention. Notoriety has its reward since it interrupts the repetition and boredom of everyday life.
Gehry has been criticized, the functionality of his buildings has been questioned, along with their cost. None of this matters in a world dominated by media with an insatiable appetite for the novel, sensational, the biggest or highest, the most expensive. By extremes. Mannerism thrives in such an environment. Gehry simply gives his clients what they want. Whether it amounts to great architecture, or whether Gehry is the world’s greatest architect, time will tell. My guess is that in a century’s time, the likes of Alvar Aalto and Brazil’s Oscar Niemeyer, true masters of curves, will be admired as still great, while Gehry will languish as a forgotten creator of weird sculptures posing as architecture. Gehry wishes us to see his architecture as pure art. Buildings are more than that, they must also be useful, well suited and well built for their purpose. Gehry, for all the attention today, may fade into the background and languish as a curiosity typical of an age of vain entitlement. And, as for the documentary, the ABC will need to do its homework.
* In 2007, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology sued Frank Gehry and a construction company over alleged design and construction failures in MIT's US$300 million Stata Center. MIT alleged that these led to drainage problems, leaks and cracks that involved expensive repairs. Three years later, the suit was settled for an undisclosed amount.
© Philip Drew 2015
Editor's note: the views expressed in this review are purely those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the views of SFAUDi