Richard Pare: Russian Avant Garde Architecture
In preparation for my Avant-Garde Moscow excursion this summer I have been drawing up a shortlist of buildings that must-be-seen-and-photographed. This is no easy task. Moscow is a vast urban sprawl which has, over the years, been the focus of extensive regime planning. This means there is no shortage of constructivist concrete, brutalism, imperialism and ultra modern skyscrapers to inspect. I have no complaints, I like urban sprawl very much. Paris-like perfection and uniformity are boring. Bring on the chaos.
Imperialism, being British, always seems a bit old hat to me. Shiny golden gates and sprawling grand pastel palaces are all very well and good but I would always rather have the weirdness of the short but creative constructivist period (1922 – 1932). Influenced by Le Corbusier and his European colleagues, design and architecture took on an angular communal life of its own and iconic buildings were constructed in Moscow. Fortunately for us some of them are still standing, having lived very long lives.
Richare Pare is a photographer who is recognised as Britain’s leading expert in this field. Born in Portsmouth in 1948, he has travelled extensively around the Soviet Union and its subsequent independent republics. His first trip was in the early 1990s. Crucially instead of just writing articles and books, he takes pictures, and rather good ones at that. I saw his work a couple of years ago at the Royal Academy of Arts when they exhibited ‘Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915 – 1935’. The photos used in the exhibition are currently showing in Pushkin House. Tatlin’s Tower is one of the icons of modernism, and he cites finding a print of a photograph of its construction in a New York photography fare as the inspiration for his first trip.
He recently presented a talk at Pushkin House as part of their Architecture series and I went along to listen. Holding mildly controversial opinions on architectural preservation normally means I find much to disagree with amongst these gatherings of conservationists. I tend to get in trouble and find it’s always safest to keep quiet. However I very much liked Richard Pare. He is a grumpy old Englishman with that crumbled look of someone who has spent their career in the arts or academia, comfortably insulated from corporate impositions. He is given to long rambling anecdotal tales of trips round the newly independent and slightly crazy Russia, ‘in 1993 one could drive across Moscow in 15 mins, now you could do it in three days, but only in an ambulance’.
He is an unapologetic devotee of the work and principles of Le Corbusier, Bauhaus and brutalism. He also likes to throw in Bulgakov references in comparison with the absurdity of the existing Russian administration. He strongly expresses a frustration dark pessimism with current Moscow and Russian attitudes and their deliberate neglect of the remaining structures of the short constructivst period. Primarily he seems essentially disappointed in the collective failure to protect and preserve what represents, in his eyes, unique architecture. I think this is not that simple an issue. We are dealing with a country and city with a highly complex and contrasting past: one where architecture and buildings, their uses and styles, correspond directly with political periods in history. For ordinary Russian people most of these periods were often very dark indeed. The desire for change in Russia was pitched at in intensity unmatched by anywhere else. To restore the past as a monument is directly contradictory to this need for renewal and eradication of the past. All Soviet constructions are more than merely structures or styles they are relics and reminders of an era that was dramatically swept away.
Richard Pare’s photos of his various tours and travels can bee seen in his book the ‘Lost Vanguard’ The Lost Vanguard. There are lots of images on line, most notably the Kremlin Power Station, the Isvestia Building, the Melnikov House and the iconic Kiev diving pool. But it is his enthusiasm for Ginsberg’s Narkomfin building that is most catching.
The Jewish architect Moisei Ginsberg designed the huge residential complex in 1928 and it was constructed in Central Moscow by 1932. It had been commissioned to house the employees of the Commissariat of Finance. Pare describes Ginsberg’s passion for Corbusier’s 5 point styles of modernist architecture and his rather gung-ho attempt at using its principles as brave. There was no hesitation or half measure in his approach. There are long ribbon windows, high pilotis and roof gardens. He built on a grand scale with a committed approach to communal living. There were shared kitchens, crèches and laundries, very little was designed to allow space for the individual. Everyone was to live, eat and work together as a mass rather than in individual nuclear units.
It was a radical use of space in a city with a near ever present housing crisis. The facilities were shared both horizontally and vertically, determinedly based on the theory of using the building as a ‘social condenser’. It is cleverer than that though, the block is positioned to allow the cross ventilation through the walkways and open stair cases to create light, air and space and soften the enclosing block effect of the harsh concrete. He designed in window boxes for growing herbs. The mix of apartments is separately designed to cater to single people, couples and families. The orientation allows the sunrise to illuminate all the living spaces right through using the ribbon windows on both sides.
However, over time the building has been chopped, partitioned, modified and is now largely derelict. The pressure on the structure to disappear forever is intense. It’s mostly due to the position of the site and the present astronomical value of real estate in central Moscow. It remains nominally protected by its presence on UNESCO’s endangered buildings list. I would imagine your average Moscovite property developer does not fear the mighty threat of a UNESCO list.
Richard Pare describes how he first got in to take photos by accosting a resident. The resident kindly allowed him to photograph the internals of the building, including the internals of his own apartment. As Richard says photographing human detritus of life tells you more about their lives than any portrait would.
Of course I will go and see it. There is a plan to convert it for use as a hotel, which seems to be contrary to all the concepts of communal living and the great social experiment it was constructed for. But the reality is that, just as the experimental regime failed, so did its footprints, and the buildings it left behind will disappear too. These structures are nearly 100 years old, they have had their life and after a good run their functionality is now part of a long ago past. Are there any of today’s modern structures which are still likely to be around in 100 years to be photographed and stuck on an exhibition, I’m not sure they would be, we don’t build like that any more. We change too quickly and it is the change itself that needs recognised.
No doubt Mr Pare would be horrified by my attitude, but slavishly restoring the past can trap us rather than teach us.
Imperialism, being British, always seems a bit old hat to me. Shiny golden gates and sprawling grand pastel palaces are all very well and good but I would always rather have the weirdness of the short but creative constructivist period (1922 – 1932). Influenced by Le Corbusier and his European colleagues, design and architecture took on an angular communal life of its own and iconic buildings were constructed in Moscow. Fortunately for us some of them are still standing, having lived very long lives.
Richare Pare is a photographer who is recognised as Britain’s leading expert in this field. Born in Portsmouth in 1948, he has travelled extensively around the Soviet Union and its subsequent independent republics. His first trip was in the early 1990s. Crucially instead of just writing articles and books, he takes pictures, and rather good ones at that. I saw his work a couple of years ago at the Royal Academy of Arts when they exhibited ‘Building the Revolution: Soviet Art and Architecture 1915 – 1935’. The photos used in the exhibition are currently showing in Pushkin House. Tatlin’s Tower is one of the icons of modernism, and he cites finding a print of a photograph of its construction in a New York photography fare as the inspiration for his first trip.
He recently presented a talk at Pushkin House as part of their Architecture series and I went along to listen. Holding mildly controversial opinions on architectural preservation normally means I find much to disagree with amongst these gatherings of conservationists. I tend to get in trouble and find it’s always safest to keep quiet. However I very much liked Richard Pare. He is a grumpy old Englishman with that crumbled look of someone who has spent their career in the arts or academia, comfortably insulated from corporate impositions. He is given to long rambling anecdotal tales of trips round the newly independent and slightly crazy Russia, ‘in 1993 one could drive across Moscow in 15 mins, now you could do it in three days, but only in an ambulance’.
He is an unapologetic devotee of the work and principles of Le Corbusier, Bauhaus and brutalism. He also likes to throw in Bulgakov references in comparison with the absurdity of the existing Russian administration. He strongly expresses a frustration dark pessimism with current Moscow and Russian attitudes and their deliberate neglect of the remaining structures of the short constructivst period. Primarily he seems essentially disappointed in the collective failure to protect and preserve what represents, in his eyes, unique architecture. I think this is not that simple an issue. We are dealing with a country and city with a highly complex and contrasting past: one where architecture and buildings, their uses and styles, correspond directly with political periods in history. For ordinary Russian people most of these periods were often very dark indeed. The desire for change in Russia was pitched at in intensity unmatched by anywhere else. To restore the past as a monument is directly contradictory to this need for renewal and eradication of the past. All Soviet constructions are more than merely structures or styles they are relics and reminders of an era that was dramatically swept away.
Richard Pare’s photos of his various tours and travels can bee seen in his book the ‘Lost Vanguard’ The Lost Vanguard. There are lots of images on line, most notably the Kremlin Power Station, the Isvestia Building, the Melnikov House and the iconic Kiev diving pool. But it is his enthusiasm for Ginsberg’s Narkomfin building that is most catching.
The Jewish architect Moisei Ginsberg designed the huge residential complex in 1928 and it was constructed in Central Moscow by 1932. It had been commissioned to house the employees of the Commissariat of Finance. Pare describes Ginsberg’s passion for Corbusier’s 5 point styles of modernist architecture and his rather gung-ho attempt at using its principles as brave. There was no hesitation or half measure in his approach. There are long ribbon windows, high pilotis and roof gardens. He built on a grand scale with a committed approach to communal living. There were shared kitchens, crèches and laundries, very little was designed to allow space for the individual. Everyone was to live, eat and work together as a mass rather than in individual nuclear units.
It was a radical use of space in a city with a near ever present housing crisis. The facilities were shared both horizontally and vertically, determinedly based on the theory of using the building as a ‘social condenser’. It is cleverer than that though, the block is positioned to allow the cross ventilation through the walkways and open stair cases to create light, air and space and soften the enclosing block effect of the harsh concrete. He designed in window boxes for growing herbs. The mix of apartments is separately designed to cater to single people, couples and families. The orientation allows the sunrise to illuminate all the living spaces right through using the ribbon windows on both sides.
However, over time the building has been chopped, partitioned, modified and is now largely derelict. The pressure on the structure to disappear forever is intense. It’s mostly due to the position of the site and the present astronomical value of real estate in central Moscow. It remains nominally protected by its presence on UNESCO’s endangered buildings list. I would imagine your average Moscovite property developer does not fear the mighty threat of a UNESCO list.
Richard Pare describes how he first got in to take photos by accosting a resident. The resident kindly allowed him to photograph the internals of the building, including the internals of his own apartment. As Richard says photographing human detritus of life tells you more about their lives than any portrait would.
Of course I will go and see it. There is a plan to convert it for use as a hotel, which seems to be contrary to all the concepts of communal living and the great social experiment it was constructed for. But the reality is that, just as the experimental regime failed, so did its footprints, and the buildings it left behind will disappear too. These structures are nearly 100 years old, they have had their life and after a good run their functionality is now part of a long ago past. Are there any of today’s modern structures which are still likely to be around in 100 years to be photographed and stuck on an exhibition, I’m not sure they would be, we don’t build like that any more. We change too quickly and it is the change itself that needs recognised.
No doubt Mr Pare would be horrified by my attitude, but slavishly restoring the past can trap us rather than teach us.