<h1>About Bees and Screws - Insights from the April Lecture of the Circle</h1>
On the first of April, fans of airships and transatlantic steamers gathered at Prague's NoD to hear the life story of a member of the legendary Školka SIAL, a close collaborator of J. P. Kleihues and a professor of structural design at RWTH Aachen. The work of Mirko Baum cannot be measured in square meters or cubic meters of concrete. His buildings reflect a ratio grounded in historical knowledge, resulting in captivating constructions with an engineering spirit.
The 1960s at Prague's Czech Technical University caught Mirko Baum in a relatively relaxed atmosphere. They learned about Austrian and English visionaries thanks to John Eisler, who supplied his classmates with foreign literature. Their student projects were not lacking in courage, earning them the generational nickname Machinists due to their 'technocratic flights of fancy.' A happy period spent in the abandoned excursion restaurant Na Jedlové, under the wing of Karel Hubáček, further solidified Baum's love for 'flying screws.' Unfortunately, this did not last long as the political situation compelled him to emigrate to West Germany, where he met J.P. Kleihues, who had the same charisma as Hubáček, and over the following twenty years, Baum learned from him how to view and think about architecture. Kleihues, a great admirer of K.F. Schinkel, demonstrated in his office that classicism is compatible with modern times.
After a brief look back at three well-known realizations (the roof of the church in Frankfurt, the architecture school at RWTH, and the transloader across the Niers), a presentation followed on the project of a steel footbridge over the Orlice River to Hradec Králové, which he is working on with his partner David Baroš.
The final discussion refreshed the memory of the three-part lecture series Construction and the Determination of Form, which took place at the end of October 2004 in the newly renovated New Gallery AVU. At that time, Mirko Baum spoke for long hours about ancient philosophers, medieval music, and internal combustion engines.
He reminded that beauty is related to truth. Construction should arise from logic and not create purposeless forms. Baum admits that his path does not lead to genius architecture, but he believes in its correctness. At the same time, he does not perceive architecture as 'dryness,' as something to connect. Architecture today has found its way into the same category as popular music and elite sports, and is more a matter of entertainment.
Doing HOW without WHY is a wrong path, as exemplified by the Beijing Olympic Stadium. The original prototype of the bird's nest is a beautiful logical structure, which H&deM transformed into an icon full of complications.
At the end of the lecture, Baum mentioned two architects whose work is not 'conventionally definable.' The transcendental dimension of Plečnik and Gaudí is outside the flow of time and is not eclectic. A similar kind of timelessness, which diverges from Baum's work, can be found in the project of his own house in Roetgen.
The 1960s at Prague's Czech Technical University caught Mirko Baum in a relatively relaxed atmosphere. They learned about Austrian and English visionaries thanks to John Eisler, who supplied his classmates with foreign literature. Their student projects were not lacking in courage, earning them the generational nickname Machinists due to their 'technocratic flights of fancy.' A happy period spent in the abandoned excursion restaurant Na Jedlové, under the wing of Karel Hubáček, further solidified Baum's love for 'flying screws.' Unfortunately, this did not last long as the political situation compelled him to emigrate to West Germany, where he met J.P. Kleihues, who had the same charisma as Hubáček, and over the following twenty years, Baum learned from him how to view and think about architecture. Kleihues, a great admirer of K.F. Schinkel, demonstrated in his office that classicism is compatible with modern times.
After a brief look back at three well-known realizations (the roof of the church in Frankfurt, the architecture school at RWTH, and the transloader across the Niers), a presentation followed on the project of a steel footbridge over the Orlice River to Hradec Králové, which he is working on with his partner David Baroš.
The final discussion refreshed the memory of the three-part lecture series Construction and the Determination of Form, which took place at the end of October 2004 in the newly renovated New Gallery AVU. At that time, Mirko Baum spoke for long hours about ancient philosophers, medieval music, and internal combustion engines.
He reminded that beauty is related to truth. Construction should arise from logic and not create purposeless forms. Baum admits that his path does not lead to genius architecture, but he believes in its correctness. At the same time, he does not perceive architecture as 'dryness,' as something to connect. Architecture today has found its way into the same category as popular music and elite sports, and is more a matter of entertainment.
Doing HOW without WHY is a wrong path, as exemplified by the Beijing Olympic Stadium. The original prototype of the bird's nest is a beautiful logical structure, which H&deM transformed into an icon full of complications.
At the end of the lecture, Baum mentioned two architects whose work is not 'conventionally definable.' The transcendental dimension of Plečnik and Gaudí is outside the flow of time and is not eclectic. A similar kind of timelessness, which diverges from Baum's work, can be found in the project of his own house in Roetgen.
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