Interior of the Mount Angel Abbey Library, Alvar Aalto, architect (photo source: University of
Oregon Libraries)
Last month’s meeting of the
Construction Specifications Institute’s Willamette Valley Chapter featured a
presentation by University of Oregon associate professor Virginia Cartwright about the development of luminous themes in the work of Alvar Aalto.
The relationship between light and form in
Aalto’s work has been a long-standing
focus of Virginia's research. I personally regard the 20th century
Finnish modernist as one of my influences, for many of the reasons Virginia
would touch upon, and more.(1)
A central theme of
Virginia’s investigations is Aalto’s enduring interest in harvesting and
manipulating daylight. His abiding attention to natural lighting as a
functional determinant for design was attributable to its scarcity in the
northern latitudes of his homeland. His concern for the relationship between
light and form would become a discernible thread evident in the majority of his
buildings, most notably his library projects. Arguably, it is one of Aalto’s
commissions outside of his native Finland—the Mount Angel Abbey Library here in Oregon—that represents the pinnacle of his library achievements.
Virginia detailed how
the lessons Aalto learned during his education and early years of practice
resonated throughout his career. For example, before moving toward the
modernist vocabulary he would become famous for, Aalto absorbed the tenets of
Nordic Classicism. Virginia cited Gunnar Asplund’s
Stockholm Public Library as a key example of Aalto’s capacity to assimilate and
adapt concepts and strategies particularly well-suited to the clime and culture
of Scandinavia.(2)
In the instance of the Stockholm Library, it was Asplund’s use of an encircling
ring of clerestory windows high up on the wall of a central rotunda (among
other features) that would lastingly influence Aalto’s library designs. The clerestory
windows capture the sunlight entering at the low angle of incidence typical of
the northern sky, while the unadorned walls of the rotunda reflects and diffuses
the light before it reaches the floor levels below.
Asplund’s
work directly influenced Aalto in his design for the municipal library in
Viipuri (now Vyborg, Russia). Evident at Viipuri are the same reliance upon
top-lighting, orchestrated progression of spaces from the exterior through the
interior, and the nesting of sunken levels within a tall, primary reading room Asplund
used in his much more monumental design for the Stockholm Public Library. The
gestation period for the Viipuri project was a lengthy eight years, and it was
during this time that Aalto would begin to move from Nordic Classicism toward
his own highly personal brand of Modernism.
Viipuri Library (photo by Maija Kairamo/The Finnish Committee for the Restoration of Viipuri Library)
If
you’re familiar with Aalto’ mature portfolio, it’s easy to see why many
architects of my generation are so attracted to his work. Much of his
architecture’s appeal lies in its sense
of tradition (despite its modernity), its reverence for the landscape, its materiality,
as well as its idiosyncrasy. Virginia presented images of projects
like the Finnish Pavilion at the 1939 New York World’s Fair, Wolfsburg Cultural Center, and Seinajoki Library, which increasingly displayed his use of organic forms, natural
materials, and free handling of space. All served as precursors to the Mount
Angel Library.
The
Library at Mount Angel Abbey, located a couple miles north of Silverton(3) here
in Oregon, is the quintessential example of Aalto’s library designs. We’re
incredibly fortunate to have one of the only two U.S. buildings Aalto designed (the
other being the Baker House dormitory at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology) so close by
and available for visits. If you haven’t already done so, you owe yourself a
trip to the Abbey to experience the library firsthand.
In
his lavishly illustrated monograph entitled Lasting Aalto Masterwork: The Library at Mount Angel Abbey, the late Donald Canty wrote that if one had to pick a single building to elucidate Aalto’s
design approach, it might well be the Mount Angel Abbey Library. The building epitomizes
everything about the work of Alvar Aalto that set him apart from the other
masters of modern architecture.
The
Mount Angel Library, especially when first approached from the central lawn
within the abbey, is remarkably modest and unassuming in appearance. Aalto’s keen
attention to the shaping of light and the experience of encountering, entering,
and coming to understand the building is immediately evident. The library visitor’s
path is alternately compressed and expanded spatially, culminating in a
top-lit, atrium-like space that extends vertically both upward to an arcing
band of clerestory windows and downward into a multilevel well of reading areas.
The expressive sculpting of the building’s section exemplifies Aalto’s
philosophy of “optical geometry,” while its mix of rectilinear and free plan
forms clearly reflect the library’s internal organization.
Virginia
explained how Mount Angel typified Aalto’s obsession with providing optimal
natural lighting for reading by. Indeed, it’s possible to sit most everywhere
on any level of the curving well and not cast a harsh shadow on the book being
read, so effective is the dispersal of the sun’s rays.
Interestingly,
for all of his fascination with light as a form-giver in architecture and the
settings in which he placed his buildings, Aalto was seemingly indifferent to
the potential of using windows to not only bring light in but provide views out
as well. At Mount Angel, he decidedly limited the marvelous views of the valley
below and the mountains beyond the hilltop abbey to three small windows. These
appear like framed paintings on the walls in which they occur; in this respect,
they are more precious and surprising than views through generously arrayed
walls of windows would have been.
Ultimately,
it may be best for us to not attempt to closely emulate Aalto’s highly individual
and distinctive architecture. The portfolios of several contemporary designers (I’m
thinking of Shim-Sutcliffe Architects,
among others) do contain impressive projects that sometimes superficially
resemble Aalto’s humanist, experiential, and tactile strain of modernism;
however, these talented architects undoubtedly have assimilated what they want
and choose to use from a panoply of influences, which may include but is not
limited to the Finnish master. As Virginia demonstrated, Aalto handed down to
us much to learn, but Aalto’s own experience likewise illuminates the value of
adapting and building upon precedent as we each develop our personal notions
about architecture.
* *
* * *
*
Attendance at the
April meeting was, to say the least, modest. If you missed Virginia and her
insights about the evolution of Alvar Aalto’s highly personal brand of
modernism, you passed up something special. The Willamette Valley Chapter’s
programs are uniformly excellent, so reserve the last Thursday evening of each
month to attend your WVC/CSI meetings. Besides continuing education, chapter gatherings
offer plenty of networking opportunities, collegiality, great food,
and the best views in Eugene (from the top floor of the Eugene Hilton). I hope
to see you at a meeting soon!
(1) An earlier blog entry of mine, “Genealogy of Influence,” promised a series of posts about the architects and
theorists who influenced my architectural world view. This is the fifth post in
the series.
(2) While
still a student, Aalto sought work in Stockholm with Asplund but ended up in
the employ of Arvid Bjerke.
Nevertheless, Asplund would become a friend and mentor to Aalto.
(3) The
Oregon Garden in Silverton is home to another modern masterpiece—Frank Lloyd
Wright’s Gordon House)
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