The blogosphere is all atwitter with news of Norman Foster's latest project, Moscow's Crystal Island. Why? It's big. Really frickin' big, with a floor area of 2.5million square meters and a height of 450 meters. If completed, it may be the largest structure in the world.
It's also a monstrosity. Not because it's ugly, though I think it is, but because it's ego ossified into structure. "Conceived as a self-contained city within a city," it not only denies its urban context completely, functioning as a sort of vertical suburb, it also completely precludes the kind intelligent adaptation and evolution that small-scale buildings in a complex urban fabric excel. Though it's touted as green, it's essentially the world's largest monument to obsolescence -- this monolith almost seems designed to preclude the possibility of intelligent re-use in later times.
It's like designing a computer with the latest green technologies and then welding the case closed, so it can never be reworked or updated in a meaningful way. It's not how designers with an eye on the future create things, and it seems a problem inherent to the sort of commissions starchitects accept these days. Perhaps Sir Norman wants to try to steal some of the Ryugyong Hotel's spotlight as a mega-building blunder? (And am I the only one who thinks it looks like a fractal version of the Monument to the Third International?)
Here's the alternative: a rapidly-evolving body of professional knowledge about how to design and build graceful, sustainable and adaptable structures -- structures that are beautiful both aesthetically and ethically when they're built, and which grow only more beautiful as subsequent generations modify them to fit their needs. An open architecture, an architecture which asks a question of the future -- how does our inspiration today serve your needs tomorrow? -- rather than an architecture which aims at deathlessness, and achieves only lifelessness.







