The concrete reality
Helen Smith
The very concept of an architect compiling his own retrospective exhibition, in consultation with art historians, is a suspect one and serves as limited a function as writing one's own obituary. Meticulously executed models in wood and perspex together with drawings and well studied photographs can Shed a misleading light on the architect, who can only finally be assessed with reference to his concrete achievements: concrete being the operative word in the case of Denys Lasdun, architect of the new National Theatre and subject of an exhibition recent held at the RIBA Heinz Gallery in Portman Square.
• 'Concrete' was an emotive and stimulating word in the architectural climate which nurtured Lasdun, who was born in 1914 and worked with leading members of the avantgarde in the 1930s at a time when Le Corbusier was the main inspiration behind the Modern Movement' in Britain. These were e,xciting years for architecture and, to an elite group of architects and clients, concrete spelt modernity, the opening up of new Possibilities of forms, structures and surfaces, faster and cheaper mass production of houses and a new hope for the future. The general public, however, never warmed to it and now concrete is probably the most unPoPular building material in use. It provides a target for a mass disillusionment with modern architecture to an extent not rivalled bY steel and glass or other modern materials. A severe blow was dealt to Public tolerance of concrete as visible surface and structure ,bY the 'Brutalise movement of the late fifties, from which it has never recovered. tlrutalism itself was an architectural ethos (Once shared by Lasdun) based on 'truth to materials', structural honesty, objectivity, and formal legibility, and was an attempt to revive the spirit of the early Modern Move111,.ent, lost in the stylism of, say, the Festival It was not a style, just as the early wtodern Movement was not a style, but it became identified with a surface aesthetic raw materials and exposed services, and !ed to the 'concrete jungle' anti-style of the ,Sixties, typified by the South Bank Arts ‘-entre. In the 1970s an adherence to brutal shuttered concrete demands Lasdun's dogmatic faith in its abstract conceptual qualities, with which he rides roughshod Over Prejudice. The exhibition provided evidence of Lasdun's ability to abstract himself from ?ncrete reality and the adverse opinions of 11._is Public. Its very title A Language and a r.hente indicated the nature of this abstrac(;°n: the theme being the development of tile Modern Movement tradition into the Present day and the language being that of
reinforced concrete. The implication was clearly that the controversial buildings of the present can be justified by reference to the controversial buildings of the past, seen in restrospect as historically significant. It can be instructive to trace Lasdun's development through buildings such as the early 'Corbusian' house of 1937, or the Hallfield Primary School and Bethnal Green 'cluster' blocks of the 'fifties which represent the elementarist planning of Brutalism at its most potent : but the historical sequence can in no way sanctify today's buildings. The establishment clients who now are Lasdun's main patrons (consisting of committees rather than individuals), the National Theatre, banks and universities, manage to swallow the polemical idealism whole, only to find the concrete artefact somewhat indigestible.
One of the messages of Lasdun's exhibition was the meticulous design process employed by his firm. Each building project clearly involves the construction of many trial models before arriving at the final forms and details. These have helped to create the abstract sculptural clarity of buildings such as the National Theatre and many earlier works. However, in some cases it is the very abstract beauty of these miniature maquettes, peopled with cardboard cut-out figures, which has sold the designs for fullscale outrages, a description narrowly escaped by the National Theatre. One such case is the new 'spine building' for London University, presented in the exhibition by a gem of a model and a stunningly romantic photograph, although the illusion is quickly dispelled by the reality of the monstrosity now dominating Bloomsbury. The vast continuous spine buttressed by stepped level wings is an inhuman Futurist intrusion into an area struggling to preserve vestiges of its early nineteenth century street pattern and character, and the sanity of its student population. Two of the factors inevitably omitted in architectural models are scale, particularly in relation to surrounding buildings, and materials, and in both these aspects Lasdun's buildings can shock as well as excite.
Lasdun has a feeling for proportion and scale which gives his best works an undeniable monumentality, and he has also proved himself capable of relating modern architecture to its historical surroundings in buildings such as the luxury flats in St. James's Place of 1958 or the Royal College of Physicians in Regent's Park of 1960. Both of these refuse to make easy concessions to the scale of their architecturally distinguished neighbours but somehow manage to contribute to the urban landscape. The former shows Lasdun slipping easily into his first prestige site, and succeeds by its well-mannered reticence. The second (with its mannerisms reminiscent of Lubetkin's Finsbury Health Centre) succeeds by its pithy dialogue between formality and organic growth, characteristic of Nash's organisation of the park as a whole. Both these buildings confront parks which provide essential breathing space and this space becomes even more vital in Lasdun's more recent, larger buildings.
His largest building so far executed is the University of East Anglia complex which combines residential accommodation with recreational facilities, teaching and research space in a continuously linked development, inconceivable other than on the virgin soil of the open Norfolk landscape, to which it makes a positive contribution. Lasdun makes no easy concessions to nature either but the intrusion has been acclaimed by staff and students as well as by the critics who see it as a successful product of Brutalist ideals. The scope provided by the site seems to have been important : two notable failures to reconcile monumentality of scale with a cramped urban site were fortunately rejected at planning stages. Lasdun's proposal for the Royal Institute of Chartered Surveyors to replace a Waterhouse building in Parliament Square defies criticism. Can we be sure, even in 1976, that Lasdun will not commit similar atrocities in devastation of our townscape heritage ? Lasdun, after fourteen years in which attitudes to urban conservation have improved immeasurably, is still proud to exhibit the scheme, together with his proposed skyscraper complex for central . Cambridge of the previous year. This group of three irregular towers for the University Science faculty would have dwarfed the historic centre of the town, but a clever photomontage taken from daisy level on King's College meadow brings them down to a size where the given explanation, 'the grain of the existing Cambridge skyline', might appear to mean something.
The second part of this study of Lasdun's architecture will appear next week
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