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Viewpoint
By Ian Chodikoff
In the dizzying run-up to the opening celebrations of the Royal Ontario Museum's (ROM) Michael Lee-Chin Crystal on June 2nd, every architecture, design, and cultural critic in Toronto was frantically weighing in on the architectural acumen of Daniel Libeskind--the so-called "creative genius" behind the ROM's expansion. This is unfortunate. The general public has been largely misled into believing that a massive and complex building like the ROM is complete as soon as the orders are given for the scaffolding to be cleared away. Amidst this frenzy, the temptation to provide immediate and full coverage of such a significant cultural building is obvious, given the amount of ink that has been devoted to it. However, due to the fact that the Crystal is incomplete, riddled with deficiencies and lacking any exhibitions (with the exception of Hiroshi Sugimoto's temporary installation), the addition to the ROM is ineligible for review at this time. Being drawn into the proverbial circus tent to be the first to see its "naked space" can be likened to viewing a concert hall without its seating, orchestra pit and stage. The ROM was designed to be a museum, after all. Judging it prematurely as a finished entity only serves to fuel the misconceptions that the architect is a legitimate icon of creative genius or that architecture represents universal truth beyond criticism.
Amidst the paparazzi approach to architectural criticism witnessed over the past month, we shall neither confuse the character of Libeskind with the theatrics of his architecture nor criticize his aptitude in garnering interviews and photographs beneath myriad newspaper headlines. The persona of Daniel Libeskind must now recede into the background as his architecture begins the process of being adapted and appropriated by its users.
Attention should be given to the efforts, expertise and courage of all those who helped Libeskind achieve his architectural whimsy: Bregman + Hamann Architects who bit their tongues while rolling up their sleeves to fashion a building from a napkin sketch; Halsall Associates for their engineering and HVAC prowess; Walters Inc., the company who built the extraordinary steel frame; and Vanbots Construction for managing a complex construction process. Congratulations should also go out to the director and CEO of the ROM, William Thorsell, whose ability to manage a building campaign with such detail, tenacity and enthusiasm is beyond compare.
Having toured the ROM on several occasions during its construction, there is much to appreciate about its "renaissance": the complex technical difficulties, sensitivity to heritage and ambitious urban strategies. However, the initial experience of entering the Crystal after its official opening was nothing less than the discomfort of confronting the cacophony of an ill-conceived fun house. The inelegant open-grated walkways and sheer arrogance of the sloping walls physically reduces the ability to find spatial balance. The disappointment of experiencing the fire-rated egress known as the Stair of Wonders forced me to retreat into the original 1912 section of the museum by Darling and Pearson, where a deep comfort was regained in descending the grand staircase that feels like a staircase, and where the dimensions are purposeful.
A defining moment occurred during the opening ceremonies: David Suzuki, perhaps Canada's most famous environmental activist and commentator on the natural sciences, appeared on stage to say a few words. Behind me, I overheard someone ask what Suzuki has to do with the ROM and the opening ceremonies. If the museum's mandate has been overshadowed by gargantuan efforts to raise the institution's profile rather than functioning as a cultural facility whose ambitions are to explore world cultures and the natural sciences, then the value of architecture is truly at risk.
Link to article
Viewpoint
By Ian Chodikoff
In the dizzying run-up to the opening celebrations of the Royal Ontario Museum's (ROM) Michael Lee-Chin Crystal on June 2nd, every architecture, design, and cultural critic in Toronto was frantically weighing in on the architectural acumen of Daniel Libeskind--the so-called "creative genius" behind the ROM's expansion. This is unfortunate. The general public has been largely misled into believing that a massive and complex building like the ROM is complete as soon as the orders are given for the scaffolding to be cleared away. Amidst this frenzy, the temptation to provide immediate and full coverage of such a significant cultural building is obvious, given the amount of ink that has been devoted to it. However, due to the fact that the Crystal is incomplete, riddled with deficiencies and lacking any exhibitions (with the exception of Hiroshi Sugimoto's temporary installation), the addition to the ROM is ineligible for review at this time. Being drawn into the proverbial circus tent to be the first to see its "naked space" can be likened to viewing a concert hall without its seating, orchestra pit and stage. The ROM was designed to be a museum, after all. Judging it prematurely as a finished entity only serves to fuel the misconceptions that the architect is a legitimate icon of creative genius or that architecture represents universal truth beyond criticism.
Amidst the paparazzi approach to architectural criticism witnessed over the past month, we shall neither confuse the character of Libeskind with the theatrics of his architecture nor criticize his aptitude in garnering interviews and photographs beneath myriad newspaper headlines. The persona of Daniel Libeskind must now recede into the background as his architecture begins the process of being adapted and appropriated by its users.
Attention should be given to the efforts, expertise and courage of all those who helped Libeskind achieve his architectural whimsy: Bregman + Hamann Architects who bit their tongues while rolling up their sleeves to fashion a building from a napkin sketch; Halsall Associates for their engineering and HVAC prowess; Walters Inc., the company who built the extraordinary steel frame; and Vanbots Construction for managing a complex construction process. Congratulations should also go out to the director and CEO of the ROM, William Thorsell, whose ability to manage a building campaign with such detail, tenacity and enthusiasm is beyond compare.
Having toured the ROM on several occasions during its construction, there is much to appreciate about its "renaissance": the complex technical difficulties, sensitivity to heritage and ambitious urban strategies. However, the initial experience of entering the Crystal after its official opening was nothing less than the discomfort of confronting the cacophony of an ill-conceived fun house. The inelegant open-grated walkways and sheer arrogance of the sloping walls physically reduces the ability to find spatial balance. The disappointment of experiencing the fire-rated egress known as the Stair of Wonders forced me to retreat into the original 1912 section of the museum by Darling and Pearson, where a deep comfort was regained in descending the grand staircase that feels like a staircase, and where the dimensions are purposeful.
A defining moment occurred during the opening ceremonies: David Suzuki, perhaps Canada's most famous environmental activist and commentator on the natural sciences, appeared on stage to say a few words. Behind me, I overheard someone ask what Suzuki has to do with the ROM and the opening ceremonies. If the museum's mandate has been overshadowed by gargantuan efforts to raise the institution's profile rather than functioning as a cultural facility whose ambitions are to explore world cultures and the natural sciences, then the value of architecture is truly at risk.