Radical changes will invigorate the school

SCHOOL(K)A – SIAL

Today, the legendary SIAL in Liberec has nurtured a number of personalities from the contemporary architectural scene. Let's mention for example Emil Přikryl, Johny Eisler, or Miroslav Masák. You yourself have been at SIAL for nearly 10 years. Who was your teacher at that time? Karel Hubáček?
Zdeněk Zavřel: There weren't traditional teachers there. SIAL didn't function as a craft school. For example, I came there three years after finishing school, so I had already worked in Prague at the Association of Design Studios and had completed a two-year internship in Rotterdam with architect Bakema.
What was interesting at SIAL was primarily the meeting of two generations on the same level. We didn't go there because Hubáček was a teacher teaching us something. It was more about an exchange of opinions: the knowledgeable older generation who obviously had more experience and could read reality better, and us, naive young men who came with fresh ideas. Many of our ideas were often new to the older generation. We read AD magazine (Architectural Design – editor’s note) and similar journals, feeling we had a better connection to the contemporary world. Hubáček, Masák, Binar, and others were often immersed in their own practice. In my opinion, the meetings were quite equitable.
If I learned anything from Hubáček, it was honest Czech engineering: the understanding that nothing must be forgotten, that one must have the construction well thought out while simultaneously working with the people around: with structural engineers, HVAC specialists, and other experts. To reach a balanced position for the construction – as he said: “a good building”. The best example is Ještěd, where things are aligned in a certain harmony. That's probably the main thing he taught us. And then also how to deal with people.

Photovoltaic panels on the roof of the RVS building in Ijmuiden, 1997 - 1999

Can you be more specific?
Although the time was absolutely senseless, Hubáček was an amazing democrat. He took everyone seriously – even completely ordinary people. A conversation with him was always an open debate. He never commanded us, never assigned us tasks... The situation was left quite open. Which is undoubtedly risky for a boss with a pack of twelve young wolves behind him. But because he had natural authority, he handled our enthusiasm without difficulty. His right-hand man was of course Míra Masák. And it was Masák who tried to lead the nursery. He also had authority, but not to the same degree as Hubáček. A class apart. Masák tried to work among us, while Hubáček appeared once a month and we had open discussions...

I would be interested to know if you transferred something from his approach – conceptual thinking – into the school.
Definitely the mentioned honest Czech engineering.

Does this still apply today?
It always applies. It's about the approach to the profession, where the aesthetic aspect does not prevail over the whole. Hubáček had this hierarchy clearly sorted in his mind.

However, if you say “honest Czech engineering”, do you believe this approach is truly a Czech specificity?
If I compare the situation with the Netherlands or France, where I also worked, the environment in the Netherlands is somewhat similar, while in France it is completely different – there, nobody cares about this balance. The architect still maintains the old traditional, somewhat exclusive role, and the engineers are those who receive the concept and develop it further. In this regard, the Czech tradition is good, interesting, and still applies today. And that is just one of the things I would really like to have here at the school. But so far I'm not sure if my surroundings understand it as they should. I fear that the current development is rather heading towards the French concept...

Zdeněk Zavřel during the Dutch Ladies workshop at the Faculty of Architecture CTU in Prague

SCHOOL – FACULTY

Where does your doubt stem from?
It's not that simple. For different disciplines to be capable of interdisciplinary collaboration, they must be at approximately similar levels. Thus, an architect must understand something from other professions, but at the same time, the professions must understand the essence of architectural work. And that is usually not the case. However, this balance arose precisely at SIAL. Primarily, the staticians there understood the essence – they were not mere implementers but equal partners in dialogue.

Do you have an idea of how to improve the situation at the school if you're not completely satisfied with it?
I would really like to have the opportunity to integrate different approaches somewhere in the school. But the study is very short and in the bachelor's program, students have to learn the alphabet and the basic scales – as we say. The first and last opportunity for integration then opens up in the bachelor’s thesis. But even that is not that simple, because the school's rules in this regard are complicated. To be honest, we are not very successful at it yet.
In higher levels, let's say just before graduation and during the project, it heavily depends on the partners who gather around the assignment. Many faculty members, regardless of school rules, bring collaborators from their own or allied offices. Just so that dialogue is possible. However, in the current school system, we do not sufficiently think through this aspect and still have much work to do on it.

Staircase of the Czech Centre in Paris, 1994 - 1997

You mentioned limiting school rules twice. What specific limitations do you have in mind?
There are quite a few – and they have their reason. For example, the number of contact hours, the continuity of subjects, the composition of the current curriculum, the study regulations of CTU, and many others. We are trying to find a logical path toward further development amid this jungle.

For almost twenty years you taught at the Faculty of Architecture at the Technical University of Delft in the Netherlands. I believe the reader associates this institution not only with the fire that struck its building in 2008 but primarily with the excellent level of education there.
I came to the Netherlands in 1978 and I think I started teaching as early as 1981 and continued in pedagogical activities almost until the end. So I also learned to teach there (laughs).

Then you can surely compare both educational systems – the Dutch and the Czech.
The fundamental difference was that the Dutch higher education had continuity. And not only organizational but also continuity of thought. Even in the Czech Republic, we officially boast continuity, recalling three hundred years of existence of CTU, nevertheless, the continuity of thought is lacking. In different periods, opinions always flip... In Delft, professorships build on one another and the personalities that become professors respect certain lines of thought. Of course, they transform them to some extent, but they continue in a certain tradition. I was not accustomed to that in the Czech Republic. And it also took me some time to understand this continuity.
However, in the actual teaching, there wasn't a significant difference. At the time I was teaching in Delft, several fundamental reforms took place at the school.
I taught design – designing. In the form of assistance on projects. First with others, then alone, and as one progresses, I would bring assistants on board as well... When I arrived, the system was very similar to our current one. Although the studies had not yet been divided into bachelor and master, projects were set by their nature: housing, urbanism, or urbanism and housing or a public building. At the end of the eighties, they attempted to change project-based education and were inspired by so-called problem directed education. A method that came from America, where a problem was formulated, not a discipline. The first school to adopt this method in the Netherlands was medicine. So if I use an example from medicine, students did not learn anatomy, pathology, or physiology, but influenza or a headache...

Staircase of the Czech Centre in Paris, 1994 - 1997

You smile. Does this mean that this attempt was not successful? And can you provide an example of an architectural assignment from that time?
It was a change. It didn't last long. Problem directed education lasted at the Faculty of Architecture for about seven years. The timing of instruction also changed: initially, there was teaching by trimesters, then came the six-week block teaching. For example, in the first year there were six blocks – House – City – Water in the house – Stability – ... But eventually, they returned to semester projects. I believe that changes in schools are actually good. A lot can be illuminated during them. I experienced two or three similarly fundamental turns, and then one sees how the school reacts to change. The greatest surprise for me was to observe that the faculty members utilized the changes – both to improve their own position and to come up with new topics. They started writing new scripts intensively, preparing new teaching materials, a new structure of works... Students were certainly caught mostly in one phase, at most overlapping two. But the faculty members during their tenure often experienced four or five radical changes in the system. I think that drastic changes invigorate the school. They oxygenate it.

Do you think that the Faculty of Architecture in Prague evolves sufficiently? Or are you preparing any fundamental changes?
When I came to the school in 2006, the situation here was different. A lot has happened in these seventeen years, the old-fashioned structure loosened, years were abolished, and vertical studios were established across years. Emphasis was placed on the free choice of students and faculty. So I saw both positively that a lot is changing here and, on the other hand, I couldn't help but notice that the Dutch were more systematic and purposeful in their changes and had everything better organized. Here, everything was somehow spontaneous. In many respects, anarchy already prevailed. When I arrived, I felt that the changes were good, yet they resulted in chaos. Therefore, I try to introduce a certain flexible system into the school with my 'Dutchified' brain.

Can you be more specific? For example, how did the mentioned spontaneity manifest?
We have forty vertical studios that are supposed to adhere to the curriculum according to the type of projects. When you walk through the exhibition of works at the end of the semester, you often see that the faculty members interpret the assignments completely in their own way. To a certain extent, this is their freedom and responsibility. But quite often, I also see that they don't even know where the boundaries of individual projects lie. And then freedom prevails over quality. There is an assumption that the student will always learn something, but I think that pedagogical goals often get mixed up, and personally, I'm not sure it's good.
The same applied at the beginning of the studies, where we have ZAN – fundamentals of architectural design. And also in ZAN, I encountered forty different opinions on how the subject should be taught. It would probably be alright if all forty proposals achieved the same quality... I started back then with a debate; our meetings were called staff room and after about two years we concluded that from forty models we would create three. So that the results would be more comparable, today they work in three parallel thought processes, where they proceed with a similar method.

Double facade of the RVS building at the Amsterdam Ring Road

SCHOOL – PRACTICE

In addition to the school, your long-term foreign work also influenced the Dutch practice...
... which is quite different from the Czech.

In what way?
When I arrived, everything was different for me.

Does the difference relate to communication with the investor? You came to the Netherlands from a country where private clients practically did not exist...
For the first five or six years, I worked in the large office of van den Broek en Bakema in Rotterdam, and initially, I didn't negotiate with clients at all. At the start, I learned the construction method, the tradition... I got into housing, and that was a huge difference. For someone who came from a country where every decent architect avoided housing projects. Doing housing at that time meant designing panel buildings, which we avoided at SIAL.
In the department where only apartment buildings were designed, I suddenly realized that I didn't know how to handle such a task at all. I had no idea what was important. It took me a while to understand that in the Dutch tradition, housing has a strict logic.

Can you verbalize your findings about housing back then?
Definitely not in three sentences. I attempted to import knowledge at the beginning of the nineties when we organized symposiums in the Czech Republic and when I also published a book titled The Dutch Housing Model.

Residential complex “de Pijp” in Amsterdam

Let's stay on communication. When you became independent after six years and established your own office – Atelier Z, contacts with clients undoubtedly began.
Certainly. But I actually had very few private clients. I mostly worked for municipal and public investors, for schools, and similar entities. Half consisted of housing contracts for housing corporations, the rest were schools, offices, and later even embassies. At that time, in the late eighties, there was a significantly open atmosphere in the Netherlands – for every construction, an architect was selected. However, it was quite spontaneous; European rules were not yet applicable. You did not need to state what your turnover was, and so on. Everything was taken somewhat naively – no chamber sanctioned anything. However, for me, the free distribution of contracts definitely represented an amazing opportunity. When a school wanted to build a new building, it performed its own selection of architects either itself or through acquaintances. One would present oneself in front of a commission of the client, like the school board or a housing corporation, introduce oneself, and could show their pictures. Thus, as a foreigner with an accent, after five years, I was already getting my first decent contracts.

And if we return to working with the client?
I come from a country of a conflictual model. In the Czech Republic, we have always been raised to eventually argue. And that we achieve what we want precisely through conflict. That was the case in the seventies in the Liberec nursery too. We did not argue among ourselves, but if we went to construction management, for example, we went to fight for something. They did things to annoy us, and we did things to annoy them back. We devised loopholes and tricks.
When I arrived in the Netherlands, I thought the working strategy automatically worked the same way. However, there, the tradition is trust. Work is done by consensus method. Indeed, the tradition of agreement in the Netherlands is also explainable – they are forced to by the threat of water. The Dutch simply must negotiate. Since the 13th century, they are used to gathering in administrative units – determined by the water system – and discussing. One must understand the client and trust each other. Of course, this tradition is changing, but the difference was enormous: It is not possible to build a good building out of spite. However, if I do agree with the client, I can do whatever I want.

This is a new insight for me. Czechs are often said to get along with everyone in a Švejk-like manner, that they adapt. Do you think the conflict model is still intrinsic to us as a nation?
Absolutely. Just look at the newspapers.

Where do you believe the need for conflict stems from?
I don't know; perhaps in more stable circumstances, like during the First Republic, the situation was different. But I cannot judge that. I experienced the sixties and seventies and must say that everything was based on outmaneuvering the other. The combination of “Czech braggart” with “Švejk” is absolutely destructive...

Movable shutters (part of the ecological system) of the Dutch Embassy in Accra, Ghana, 2007

Have you observed similar methods in architecture as well?
Ultimately, even SIAL was brilliant in that it often knew how to outsmart a terrible system. Our successes back then were certainly not based on trust that someone bestowed upon us. Mr. Hubáček was not given a free hand to lead the youth to an intelligent attitude. Everything was done underground.

So what exactly did SIAL outsmart in the regime?
It was a whole system of tricks (laughs). The first and fundamental was that everything was based on technique. There was no path to architecture in the classical sense of spatial experience – light, mass – without party legitimacy. Karel Hubáček apparently realized primarily while designing Ještěd that constructions that belong to the technical infrastructure are necessary. And that the state must release money for them. If he can solve the technical problems, which, for example, are related to transmitting a television signal, he can somewhat on the side also create architecture he believes in. But nobody praised him for that. He received money to solve technical issues. Indeed, we in SIAL didn’t propose anything else. Masts, bridges, radar stations. An architectural problem wrapped in technique. It seemed logical to us that technique was most important. And all of us from the nursery are marked by this approach. Only gradually did each of us come to understand that in architecture, something else also plays a role...

A new faculty building is growing directly behind you, or rather an officially new building of CTU. What do you expect from the project of Professor Alena Šrámková? Will it transform the atmosphere of the school?
I hope so. When I arrived, the preparation process was already underway. So this is not just my merit, especially in the early stages of the construction, I played a secondary role. But regardless of what the school will be like, the mere fact that the faculty will receive its new building is so important that everything must be done to realize it. When you walk here, in our current building from the 1970s...

Just yesterday, when we were talking with Jan Hájek and Pavel Joba about the concept of their recently completed project for the Faculty of Science in Olomouc, they mentioned among other things that one of the formative moments was also the memory of studying here at CTU – and that the Olomouc faculty was not supposed to have such narrow and dark hallways, which stifle the social potential of the school...
The existing building is certainly a case to avoid.

And the new one?
It is definitely better. Made with a more modern perspective. But I would rather comment on it once it's finished.

When is the new structure supposed to open?
The rough construction should be completed by summer, and a year from now the building will be finished.

In 2007, you completed the construction of the Dutch Embassy in Accra. Are you realizing any house currently, or is there no time for creation?
The transition from one country to another interrupted my practice. Accra, or rather the execution of the building and author supervision, was still completed by my Rotterdam office; I would occasionally travel to Ghana from the Czech Republic and also commented from afar. But consciously, I then rejected any further bids. It's impossible to design from a distance.
But I am working on a smaller project in the Czech Republic now. I can't help it – my fingers are itching.

Thank you for the interview.
Kateřina Lopatová