Architects quarrel in Trafalgar Square

Press, 14 April 1984, Page 19

Architects quarrel in Trafalgar Square

The National Gallery in London, a grave and learned institution that houses one of the world’s richest collections of European painting, is under fierce attack. Its crime, in the eyes of the critics, is to have commissioned a glass-towered west wing that will, if it is built, introduce a startling change of architectural style to the dignified north side of Trafalgar Square.

The row has taken everyone by surprise. Londoners grumble about the post-war destruction of traditional brick and stone to make room for concrete and glass-rein-forced-plastic office blocks. But the civic design lobby in Britain is relatively weak. It has won only sporadic victories against the property developers. The exceptionally angry reaction may have more to do with British sentiment about Trafalgar Square than with aesthetics. It is not one of the grat squares of Europe, designed to glorify an Absolutist rejtoe, but a typical English muMe. v

The National Gallery itself is an unimpressive, neo-classical building of the 1830 s designed by a Regency rake, William Wilkins. It is flanked by James Gibbs’s magnificent St Martin-in-the-Fields, one of the finest 18th century churches in England, and Robert Smirke’s handsome Greek Revival Building, Canada House. The rest of the architecture on the square is undistinguished.

Trafalgar Square, with Nelson’s column and Sir Edwin Landseer’s four huge bronze lions couchant, commemorates Britain’s most famous naval victory. Also, for more than a century it has been the scene of important political rallies. The empty site on the west side of the National Gallery was bombed in November, 1940. Since 1958 it has been owned by the Government and ear-marked for an extension either to the National Gallery or to the neighbouring National Portrait Gallery. The trustees wjfctit the extension to house their magnificent collec-

From

LAURENCE MARKS

in London

tion of Late Gothic and Early Renaissance paintings in historical sequence and in conditions that reflect, as nearly as possible, the church interiors in which they originally hung. At present, they are scattered throughout a dozen dingy and ill-kempt rooms. But, with constraints on public expenditure, the trustees saw little chance of persuading the Government to pay for the new building. In 1980, they suggested that the site be offered to a commercial property developer at a nominal rent. In return for permission to erect an office block, the developer would provide top-lit gallery space on the upper floor. When the 125year lease expires, the National Gallery will inherit the entire building. The then Secretary for the Environment was Michael Heseltine, now Defence Secretly. He had been trying to raise design stand-

ards by holding architectural competitions for government buildings. Since his department owned the site, this seemed a heaven-sent opportunity to spread the gospel. He announced an open competition for architect-developer teams. The competition, however, was bungled. Only one of the five competition judges was an independent architect: Sir Hugh Casson, president of the Royal Academy, Britain’s oldest art institute, dating back to the eighteenth-century. Three represented clients: the National Gallery and the Government. The fifth was a real estate man brought in to assess the financial viability of the office block.

The result was a fiasco. The “advisers” squabbled and failed to agree. The National Gallery’s staff complained about the failure to meet their technical requirements for picture-hanging space. And'Mr

Heseltine became reluctantly embroiled in an architectural row. By December, 1982, the judges were irreparably divided. The Director of the National Gallery, Sir Michael Levey, and the chairman of the trustees, Lord Annan, wanted a scheme by the distinguished Chicago firm, Skidmore, Owings and Merill, which had designed no fewer than 32 art galleries and were specialists in the field. Their interior was superb, but their rather dull facade reminded some critics of an Edwardian faculty building on an Ivy League campus. The other three advisers, led by Casson, wanted the entry by a London architectural partnership, Ahrends, Burton and Koralek, who had designed a heavily windowed facade in the 1920 s Gropius style and a curved gallery that the staff insisted (notwithstanding Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Museum in New York) would be impractical. Neither side would back down.

Exasperated, Mr Heseltine imposed his own decision on the National Gallery: the British firm would be chosen, but would be allowed to redesign its scheme from scratch in collaboration with the staff. This was against normal competition practice. There was uproar in the British architectural profession, and the American firm threatened to sue. ' Last year; Ahrends produced a new design to the satisfaction of the staff, changing the facade and adding the controversial glass tower. The trustees insisted on alterations. But, under pressure from the Government, the developer, and eventually the staff, who feared that the developer might pull out if the aesthetic wrangling went on for much longer, the trustees voted to accept the design, registering a rather feeble reservation about the tower. Both sides now are assembling expert witnesses for the resumed battle at a public inquiry, which opened last week. Copyright — > London Observer Service.