Douglas Haseler
Stage 2 Architecture
Matriculation no. 15067374
HAUS Elective
Word count: 2093
Building for Culture
Temples of culture or centres for entertainment | To what extent can architecture determine a museum’s programme?
Since classical antiquity humankind has immersed itself in the fascination of the found object, and it is within this unremitting intrigue that the concept of the museum manifests itself today. Housed in private collections, planted within its lived context or cased in glass far beyond one’s touch, the instinctive curiosity of human beings supplies the desire for the collection and display of objects, and in creating an infrastructure in which to house this such a wealth of information, the museum was born. However, whilst generally associated with specific, purpose built architecture in the modern age, collection does not comprehensively entail an independent structure to that purpose; in fact long before the advent of museums, precious objects were housed at sacred sites, an ideal that still today gives the concept of collection a sanctified perspective. Whilst it can’t be denied that entertainment is a leading motive behind the principle of the museum, it can be argued that the relationship between the viewer and the object takes on a variety of roles from the inquisitive to the reverential, and fundamentally, the museum plays a significant part in this mediation. In this essay I aim to explore the position of architecture conceptually in the interaction of the object and the viewer to its environment and the philosophy of collection.
Although it is recognised that the first established modern public museum, the Ashmolean, Oxford, was not opened until 1683, the etymology of the word manifests itself in the classical period. In Greek, mouseion describes the ‘seat of the muses’ and in the Roman period, the word has been associated with philosophical discussions, so it is of little surprise that the museum is widely appreciated with long reaching heritage. However, long before the conception of the now widely recognised archetype, there is evidence of the collection of precious objects, perhaps most distinguishably in the ‘cabinet of curiosities’ (Image A). Also referred to as the Schatzkammer or Wunderkammer, the concept describes the attractive presentation of pieces (including art) in tombs, crypts, temples and treasuries in contrast to the former secretive storage, and it’s this display of rare objects that marks the initial step in the museum movement. Experiencing popularity all over Europe, the Wunderkammer concept began to establish itself within the lives of bourgeoisie, who would exhibit an eclectic spectrum of natural curiosities within a room, the ceilings and walls of which displayed a rare assortment of objects with little order or classification, and only the intention to “entertain and amuse” with any didactic objective taking second place. In spite of its widespread popularity, collection remained firmly within the grasp of the aristocracy, who developed the concept further with their invention of Kunstkammern; a space exclusively for the exhibition of personal art collections. Emphasising the sense of prestige within a personal collection and establishing a precedent for wider reproduction, collections composed at the beginning of the 19th and 20th century had architecture commissioned purely for their display, and it’s this purpose built structure that can be widely recognised as one of the leading factors in establishment of the modern museum. Nevertheless, still far from the public domain, there existed at this time an underlying exclusivity to the purveyance of art, a phenomenon that lead to the early museum’s branding as a temple for culture.
There are a number of influential factors in the perception of the museum as a sacred space, from the exclusivity as an expensive and perhaps sanctified attraction for affluent patrons, to its description as a secular religion in itself, but perhaps most influentially is the architecture in which it is housed. Drawing parallels with the composition of the temple, the original museum can be distinguished by features such as a pronounced, elevated entrance, and the neoclassical style, i.e. use of the dome and colonnade. A prime example is in Leo von Klenze’s design for the Glyptothek (Image B). Drawing inspiration from three stylistic modes; the Greek, the Roman and the Renaissance, Klenze takes influence from the Greek temple in its model as a shrine to cult objects, Roman baths for their sculptural ornamentation and indeed the constitution for collecting of the Renaissance period. Whilst much of his design was altered prior to its construction, many of the principles still remain strong, from the portico with ionic columns to the pediment sculptures; the architectural language of the Glyptothek is seated firmly within that of the sacrosanct, pertaining to the idea of the museum as a sacred space. This conception continues undeniably to the interior, where many of the elements can be related to the ecclesiastical. In spite of the scholarly advisor’s insistence on a sparse interior encompassing light wall colours and even lighting (a concept widely recognised today as an archetype for the modern museum), Klenze’s vision of rich contextual display prevailed. This resulted in a detailed didactic decoration, a precedent used in museums following the enlightenment and exemplification of specialisation and classification within the museum’s fabric, an ideal that echoed the pedagogic nature of temples from antiquity. It is without a doubt that light also takes a key role in the perception of the museum as a sacred space. Metaphorically an important motif for the divine, the concept of top lit space that is intrinsic to the church has been reflected widely by the museum ideology; the concept of removing exterior distractions in place of unreserved focus on the subject contributes to the sanctity of the art within the museum, however this obsolescence of context for the culture continues to provoke wide debate. Initially thought to compliment the art, the removal of classical style of the museum interior has been widely contested throughout history, with the movement towards the white cube gallery being compared to the burial of art. Comparing it to a cemetery, Filippo Marinetti describes the two as “truly identical in their sinister juxtaposition of bodies that do not know each other” whilst Paul Valéry refers to painting and sculpture as ‘orphans’ in reference to their separation from their lived environment, and indeed the architecture within which they were conceived. Perhaps fitting for the spiritual nature of the temple however, this outcry was met with little positive response, with all but white space as context for the art within the museum. Even presence of natural light defined display space had little influence on the concept for a new museum, with museums such as the MoMA in New York, Mies van der Rohe’s Museum for a Small City and Walter Gropius’ Bauhaus forging the way for the modern museum, comprehensively rejecting the museum archetype and replacing the previously fundamental context with that of a universally adaptable blank wall. Nevertheless, it could be argued that this pure white space maintains the holistic dynamic, something that before manifested itself within the ornamental now finds its dynamism and vitality in the clean unadulterated canvas that allows art truly to speak and entertain for itself.
It could be suggested that culture and entertainment are interchangeable, but it is within the difference between entertainment and sacred ideology that the programme of the modern museum becomes contested. Since the origin of collection for the purpose of exhibition and contemplation, the viewing of art has been regarded as entertaining; with the widespread public accessibility of art in the 19th century at museums such as the Musée Français, the idea calls upon the astonishment and delight experienced originally in private viewings of the Renaissance period. Whilst the pedagogic approach to the museum experience is for some pleasurable, in art museums one might assume that it is the experiential thought-provoking discovery of the pieces that would be entertaining, rather than the knowledge gained from admiring a piece. In fact, in the words of the first director of the Centre Pompidou, Paris, museums should be ‘erotic places – “not about explaining, but about dreaming, excitement”’. Integrating entertainment into its fabric, the Centre Pompidou (Renzo Piano and Richard Rogers, 1977) set a precedent for a new form of museum, in which sanctity and isolation of the pieces from the public become obsolete. In its liberal composition, the museum creates a public realm to make art accessible to all (see image C), particularly with the development into such a wide range of media i.e. installation, sculpture, performance, there is no longer a specific format for art and modern museums must cater to this, rather than attempting to create an exclusive temple, in which art is restricted, and not truly appreciated. As a consequence of the museum as a centre for entertainment for all, and in response to the changing desires of the public and even dwindling attendance figure, such entertainment more often than not comes at some cost. With restricted budgets in public arts, museums are often forced to integrate commercial entertainment into the fabric of the building, akin to the entertainment one might experience at a theme park. Derived from national exhibitions and fair, the theme park has its origins within museum culture and when executed correctly can have a positive influence. Described in Museum News in 1990; ‘Theme parks…propose a new vision for education and exhibition, one not based on literal or historical vision but on archetypes and community consensus history. They speak a new language: multi-sensory, entertainment-based, three dimensional, symbolic.’ In this respect, commercial entertainment is often considered an asset to a museum and in some cases one of the main attractions to those less engrossed in the exhibits, such as the café at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London (see Saatchi&Saatchi’s V&A Advert – image D). Nevertheless, whilst commercial aspects can bring a welcome alternative to the museum/mausoleum, when not managed effectively they have extreme potential to become detrimental to the philosophy of the museum, for example placement of a shopping mall at the entrance to the Louvre in Paris. Entertainment plays a huge role in the dynamic of the modern museum and to a certain extent enterprise can be beneficial to the development of the museum, but it is important to remember that a museum is by nature a centre for art and culture, and indeed sometimes didacticism, rather than a forum for capitalism. Established originally with both educational impulse and for artistic exposition, the museum has transformed individually into a secular religion of the modern age, and as a movement has extreme potential as a vehicle for entertainment of the population.
In conclusion, in response to the question, ‘to what extent can architecture determine a museum’s programme?’: to an endless extent. It is undeniable that the programme of the museum changes with the typology, with its collection, and with its historical context respectively. The museum stems from a human desire to discover, embodied perfectly within the cabinet of curiosities, a phenomenon that feeds the intrigue of mankind and allows for unrestricted exploration and discovery, drawing parallels between completely unrelated objects and pieces of art. Essentially, the museum still carries this principle, but since the time of the Wunderkammer has experienced incredible change as a result of wealth, culture and technology. To a certain extent, wealth has a significant influence on the architecture of the museum; the owner of the collection usually dictates the way in which we perceive the collection, and therefore the viewer has little choice in their experience. In the exchange between temples of culture and centres for entertainment however, it could be maintained that this is a relationship that has and will continue to undergo change as long as museums exist. It is unrealistic to expect that subjects and art in museums is treated in a sacred manner, as this limits the way in which we can interact, and for the most part removes the element of entertainment, but it remains important to preserve the importance of history and culture embodied by these articles. As the museum transitions from rich, decorated and pedagogic context to blank, adaptable and open space, the art being produced indeed changes with it, but equally, removal of all context can lead to unsuccessful anonymous space that detracts from the work within it; there is an equilibrium between a lived environment and a sacred space that works in harmony with the piece. Fundamentally, be it pedagogical, sacred, entertaining, or even commercial, museum architecture of today must create a public platform that not only contributes to the art within it, but vitally, allows for a free museum programme for the benefit of all.