Allow me, esteemed ladies and gentlemen, to express my thoughts on my own architectural work, which has sustained me up until this point, even though I have handled it capriciously, without respect for yesterday, without bowing to "isms."
I did not enter the world of design as an excellent student. After the war, after the reopening of universities, studying was quite comfortable. We also lacked a broad perspective. There were not enough books, magazines, or scripts. But a better designer than none at all.
After February 1948, after the communist vetting, the number of students somewhat diminished. The faculty also shrank. Some of the outstanding architects from the pre-war period remained, most of them were leftists. Out of good faith.
I graduated, endured the war, got married, and took up a job in Liberec in the autumn of 1951.
Due to a shortage of designers, I was assigned the task of designing two large factory halls: Rýnovice and Mnichovo Hradiště. The halls were built with the help of experienced constructors. I realized how much I did not know, but needed to know. I caught up on what I had missed. The work on myself hurt and lasted for years. Housing development awaited us. We realized a number of housing estates. Including those with the Rožmberk roses above the entrance doors in Roudnice, where the Lobkowicz family lived. It was once published in the magazine "Architecture." I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Fortunately, we could try our imagination at the seven editions of the "Liberec Exhibition Fairs." It was a good school. With state funding, we tested various spatial shapes that "lived" for only three weeks. Then came the period of school construction. We managed to advocate for atypical schools, on the condition that they would not be more expensive than the standardized patterns. They were not more expensive, perhaps a bit better. But we learned to defend our opinions. We became aware of professional responsibility. Gradually, we ceased to fear our profession. A love for the craft began to awaken.
In January 1963, Ještěd burned down. We were fortunate in the competition for a new structure. Our design passed. It was a surprise to the jury members. It was not according to their expectations. Yet, they recommended the design for realization. The idea of expressing the object with a single mass, which uniquely supports the force of the shaped hill, was surprisingly accepted, even though the competition conditions presupposed the division of the mass into two objects: a mast and a building.
Much later, I realized that the jurors risked their own prestige.
Ještěd enabled the dynamic development of the studio, opened possibilities for the use of new materials in construction, and shifted the thinking of some of its members to recognize that construction is not just a support for the idea, but a formative element, an artistically inspiring part of architectural thinking.
The approval of the study, with many technical questions, forced us to embark on a path unknown to us. We had no idea in the spring of 1963 that other architects beyond the borders of our monitored state were thinking similarly.
Our proposal managed to attract prominent Czech experts in the fields of mathematics, statics, dynamics, research on the behavior of plastic materials, and their static limits. We were not rejected anywhere. If we could not pay for some necessary measurements of "the behavior of the proposed materials," they were willingly incorporated into the scientific programs of research institutes, architecture schools, and the Academy of Sciences.
The purely human understanding of top experts encouraged our efforts. Their professional assistance and support helped us overcome the obstacles we had accumulated ourselves.
I wonder how we would fare today? Solidarity without money?
We passed through a period that convinced us that it is possible, if we believe in our profession, to fulfill our own ideas and desires, to overcome obstacles, and to face the malice of the times.
Ještěd opened the way to knowledge, encouraged self-confidence, and became an example for young architects that it is not necessary to drown in our unnecessarily restricted world. Ještěd became a state project and was to be one of the basic transmission points on the then-anticipated European route "North - South."
But it was not. The route was to be relocated to Buková hora - between Ústí n.L. and Děčín. We designed the tower at Buková hora, 170 m tall, including the execution project. But it was not realized. The European route "North - South" across the territory of Czechoslovakia did not take place, and the extensive project of the transmission tower became unnecessary.
A similar tower was built at Buková hora to the one on "Cukrák" near Prague. Later it was demolished due to the danger of structural collapse from transverse oscillation.
Because this danger also threatened Ještěd, Zdeněk Patrman succeeded in developing a pendulum, a damper that eliminated the onset of transverse oscillations in collaboration with the Mathematical Institute of the Academy of Sciences.
Pendulums and laminate rollers for antenna systems, after their success at Ještěd, brought SlAL closer to engineering. Through direct collaboration with a number of experts, we acquired knowledge we could not encounter in construction. Gradually, over several years, we designed, supplied, and installed pendulums on all major television towers in Czechoslovakia.
The management of the production and assembly of laminate coverings for antenna systems and pendulums, as well as other commercial activities such as fireproof spraying "Pyrok," enabled SlAL to financially support architectural work.
In the 1970s, the pendulums protected SlAL from dissolution, alongside a number of radio stations that we designed and some that we realized in Africa and Arabia for Tesla Prague. Even the developed projects for the use of solar energy for human habitation or the project of Sněžka kept the studio safe from the political spite of regional officials.
SlAL was transferred back to Stavoprojekt. It remained, at the instigation of the Ministry of Technology, an independent studio. The kindergarten at Jedlová was also saved. But we were under supervision. The studio no longer had the freedom to make decisions. Over time, the "kindergarten" dissolved and left "Jedlová."
Those architects who passed through the studio of their own will did not learn to create architecture in the studio; it was already inside them. But they went through a period when they were able to convince themselves that it is possible to dedicate oneself to their profession, to fulfill their own ideas and desires, to overcome obstacles and the malice of the times for the sake of the craft they chose.
The reconstruction of the Veletržní Palace did indeed necessitate the establishment of a design branch in Prague, but it was no longer a kindergarten. It was a part of the studio capable of independent life. ADNS proves this, just as the much earlier founded D.A. Studio Martin Rajniš, Václav Králíček, Michal Brix, and many others who successfully work abroad.
But I will return to the 1970s when the water tower was realized on Vidoule in Prague. Its shape is exclusively functional. In three supporting columns run the supply and drainage pipes. The shocks caused by pumping water are balanced by three pendulums at the top of each pipe. All three pipes are connected by a three-armed staircase. The space for the pendulums is emphasized by a different color. During the inspection, the construction permit for the tower was missing. The chief architect of Prague was very angry that the tower was built and he did not know about it. The problem was solved. The tower is part of the water supply, which for technical reasons is built vertically. After a few weeks, I was accused of having painted a monogram over Prague with state money, because there is a three-sided H at the top of the tower. The top of the tower was to be repainted. No one did it. I remained the only architect in the world with a monogram over the capital city.
After the experiences from Ještěd and the polyurethane filling of laminate panels, we designed and supplied a radar cover in the shape of a 3/5 sphere for the Hydrometeorological Institute in Bratislava. We also wanted to supply a cover of the same dimensions for the meteorological tower in Libuš, Prague. It did not happen. Instead of a spherical cover, a Russian carnival cap was placed on the tower.
Around the same time, Vokáč, Zavřel, Rajniš, and Brix worked on the design of a building on Sněžka. The principle of the solution was based on two independent masses: the cladding and the internal structure. The cladding, in the shape of a 4/5 sphere, prevented negative climatic influences from being transferred to the internal structures. The shell was composed of a pentagon at the top and hexagons, composed of six triangles. The individual hexagons were mounted flexibly, and the entire cladding sphere was placed on a circular steel, two-piece rail. The greens made this project impossible. The dream of realizing Sněžka, financially backed by Čedok, did not materialize. The year was 1977. At La Villette in Paris, a similarly large sphere stands that liberates the internal structure from weather influences. Confirmation that we did not think incorrectly.
Another opportunity arose. The construction of the "House of Culture" in Teplice, as the first building in the southern part of the spa promenade, according to the urban planning intention of the central urban area by Martin Rajniš and Michal Brix.
In order for the "House of Culture" to be realized, it was offered to the Research Institute of Civil Engineering in Prague as a suitable object for applying their new structural system of reinforced concrete columns and steel beams. The experiment expanded to include composite systems of facade elements. We expanded the task to include the interchangeability of acoustic cladding. Thanks to this randomly combined "public interest," financing for the construction of the cultural house in Teplice was released.
For the acoustic cladding, we designed three basic dimensions of acoustic panels. Two panels with resonant function of varying depths and one reflective panel. The width of all panels was constant to allow them to be installed on a fixed vertical load-bearing grid. The composition and quantity of sound-absorbing materials inside the panels varied according to the expected calculation of acoustic comfort.
The curve of the suspended acoustic ceiling elements follows the curve of the ceiling structure. Between the two structures, a sound-absorbing space is created. The acoustic elements are suspended individually; the gaps between them, 150 mm wide, allow a portion of the sound to penetrate into the damping space between the two structures.
In the smaller hall and in the cinema, the acoustic elements are directly attached to the ceilings. The ceiling in the longitudinal direction of the hall is made of prestressed steel cables, concealed in thin plastic tubes. The sound in the hall is high quality. Serious music is professionally recorded in the concert hall.
The good acoustics are also aided by the division of the building's plan into a square, the vertical separation of both halls by the central hall, and the double construction of both internal and external walls. Acoustics were the fundamental supporting idea of the solutions for the halls, influencing the shape of the mass, the layout solutions, and the construction itself. It dominated the interior and the shape of the building.
That it worked out, I can thank architect Jan Novák. He was a piano virtuoso and wrote a book on acoustics (Acoustic Quality and Comfort). He died before the cultural house was completed. He convinced me that acoustics cannot be solved retroactively. Acoustics are an inspirational enrichment of the architect's work in seeking the material conception of the building and its architectural expression. It is both a functional and constructive component. It can fundamentally affect the aesthetic impact of the interior and exterior of the building.
Throughout my efforts in architecture, I have strived to achieve architectural expression through suitable construction, which I believe is a formative element, not merely a supportive means to achieve the goal.
It is an equal and essential component of the architectural work as well as an inspirational part of architectural thinking. It co-determines the success of the creation.
Just as respect for the place we significantly mark with our work. I do not exceed the environment with my thoughts but enrich it. Best done with a hat in hand.
With a clear idea, proportionate to the strength of the place, without pompousness, excessiveness, material ostentation, and unnecessary decoration. We decorate only what we poorly conceived.
Even the new School of Architecture in Liberec should, just like once Jedlová, provide a certain freedom of opinion and work. Exclude routine, allow debate, do not impose established systems on anyone. Support the thinking and ability of students to develop independently. Because the essence of our work is not only professionalism, but above all the production of ideas.
Allow me, at the end of my talk, to thank Jiří Suchomel for the courage, persistence, knowledge, and the considerable sacrifices of his professional career with which he endeavored to build a new school of architecture in Liberec. This is a burden that perhaps past experiences from Jedlová will help to carry.
Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attention.
From the habilitation lecture at the Academy of Art, Architecture and Design in Prague, 1995
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