Balconate extra-large

Does humour belong to architecture? This question, paraphrasing Frank Zappa, might not seem very crucial for the profession of architecture, which is so serious and smug. Bearded architects imposing their visions of the world, history and mankind, who claim to have understood the big systems and yet force people to live in hives with no quality or poetry. But would not it be more realistic to assume that there is no one absolute form of architecture, that, on the contrary, there are as many different architectures as there are individuals and that everybody has the right to live how they see fit? Fortunately, there is a whole world of different architects, who think about their work without believing they are infallible demiurges or the only descendents of the Great Masters, preferring instead to perform their tasks with levity and concreteness, and why should not there be? Everything always needs to be assessed with very careful and specific attention, constantly bearing in mind the primary goal of satisfying the future inhabitants’ desires: so architecture is a reflection, composed of walls, windows, stones or glass, of the architect’s efforts to try and understand his fellow man, possibly obtaining the odd smile. So a healthy sense of humour is only too welcome, as is the fun nature of this Urban Cactus designed by AEMSEN for the Port of Rotterdam.

The playfulness of its name almost seems to be its own way of making fun of itself before anybody else does. It is also a very carefully gauged branding operation: giving the product a very definite identity and exploiting media coverage by means of a simple, easily digested image. And what could be a better brand than a strikingly effective idea, which plenty of thought has gone into and is more than just appearance? For once we will not be bothering with the kind of computer creations, which are now custom-designed for Asian countries, where labour is cheaper, as if they were Nike footballs, renderings of the type of virtual reality that is always the same and inevitably self-referential. Here, on the other hand, we are talking about “real reality” (I am stealing this spot-on definition from the Mateus architects from Lisbon). In this case, real reality means the desire to combine nature and the city, landscaping and buildings. People do not live in 3D renderings but in real houses. And nowadays ecological awareness is not only concerned with the planet’s fate, but much more realistically everybody wants their own piece of nature to look after and enjoy. How often have little terraced houses with their own gardens been ridiculed? But let us look at the needs behind this that should not be criminalized: privacy, silence, the possibility of creating a bit of garden for yourself or your own little allotment (is that a crime?). Just look at all the “communal” parks designed by the landscaper of the moment, which turn into waste dumps because nobody bothers to look after or manage them with love. Nowadays, lots of people want to live in contact with nature, while at the same time staying in the city, in the melting-pot of social life with all its meeting places, bars, night spots, restaurants and clubs. How can these needs be reconciled in an architectural organism without lapsing into the usual stylistic types, striving instead to take a leap forward towards creating a landmark of urban quality?

This is more or less the basic issue that Vestia Rotterdam Feyenoord / Estrade Projecten commissioned Aemsen to achieve, in order help further redevelop the backbone of Binnenhaven, surrounded by the innovate architecture of the Kop van Zuid zone. This port area, now the silent witness to an irreversible past, could be injected with fresh life. Aemsen’s urban cactus might become a landmark for pleasant, playful and perhaps even ingenious urbanity. The hub of the project is the vertical distribution tower, a large column holding 98 flats spread over 19 floors. The housing units range from 65-110 square metres in floor size, with standard floors accommodating 4-6 apartments. At grade level there are retail spaces and the foundation plinth holds the entrance, cellars and garages. So far there is nothing strange about this, expect for the fact it embodied a proper concept of housing, but the project then really develops around the extra-large balconies, which evolve through a process of fragmentation and rotation around the core of the building, forming an articulated figure with a natural feel to it.

The glazed terraces turn into revolving gardens, which instil this urban totem with dynamism and life. It is almost a sort of spontaneous germination, virulent growth making the project a flourish of private greenery. A blossoming cactus. An overflow, a cascade or even a piece of excess if you like, but who would not like to go out onto a balcony like this to look at the lights coming from the port in the evening? A standard floor plan looks like a flower with six petals, whose overlapping creates the final figure. It looks like a simple children’s puzzle, but in actual fact it is underpinned by architecture taken as research into an idea with visionary and ambitious clarity.

Aemsen has identified the city’s problems and has come up with cutting-edge solutions geared to the “super present”, where there is no room for nostalgia or even messianic expectations, but everything is experienced here and now, in the instant as it happens. Images soon fade or go off like yoghurt in the fridge, so an architect is expected speak clearly and simply, providing practical solutions while also stimulating the mind and imagination. This is a tricky task, because the spectacular and emotional side is just as important as technology and attention to feasibility. But how can we fail to be impressed by these dazzling hanging gardens sliding over each other, imagining the maze of vegetation over this glass tower?

Stefano Pavarini

L’Arca no 221