Not long after his celebrated thermal baths were completed, Peter Zumthor, the idiosyncratic reclusive Swiss architect, gave a rare lecture in the elegant basement lecture hall at the RIBA. I had only recently qualified and I was eager to see what I hoped would be some amazing slides and details of this arch minimalist’s work. The lecture hall was packed to the brim with barely standing room in the aisles. We all waited in eager anticipation.
Peter Zumthor walked onto the stage to rapturous applause. Behind the lectern a large yellow monochrome rectangle was projected onto a giant screen. ‘Tonight’ the great man announced ‘I will…. read to you my ‘Beat’ poetry. Accompanying each poem will be a colour slide that particularly connects to the poem that I will read’. As it became apparent that this was not some sort of elaborate joke, there was an overwhelming sense of bemusement which gradually turned to disappointment as Zumthor launched into one verse of obscure poetry after another. Zumthor was no Jack Kerouac and gradually the audience drifted away.
Zumthor is a tough architect to like. His reputation as a reclusive
Thermal Baths at Vals by Peter Zumthor. Exterior view on left and interior view on right (Photographs by author).
It is a dream of many architects to build a building in one material only; and with his thermal baths at Vals, Zumthor has almost achieved it. Vals is a small village, with naturally occurring hot springs, in Graubunden (one of the twenty six cantons in Switzerland) about two hours’ drive South East of Zurich. The baths are monolithic and made from layers of the local gneiss stone, quarried a kilometer up the valley. The building seems to rise naturally out of the ground in the forest. Both the material and the design play with the hot water, the reflections and the steam filled air. But there is nothing compromising about this building. Even the spaces inside are built of this hard grey stone in a sort of geometric cave system. The program for the baths is uncompromising too. Each successive room dwells on one particular sense. One room is for touch, one for smell, another for sound etc. If one talks, which is strictly forbidden, an assistant appears out of nowhere to remind one that one is not allowed to speak. Relaxation takes hard work and concentration please – these are the rules.
This building, however, like most of Zumthor’s work is extremely poetic, even moving. But how does he achieve this effect? Zumthor has said in interviews that his design process starts with a feeling or a sense that comes from his intuition. Once he has grasped that intuitive sense he fiercely holds on to it and is uncompromising in achieving his vision. He says ‘I take care that nobody destroys my first image’. As anyone who has commissioned a building knows, there are many things that can derail the initial building concept. Rising costs, interfering clients, difficult permissions, often mundane practicalities like servicing and structure, onerous health and safety requirements, litigious contractors – all of these things can push a building far away from the initial vision. Zumthor seems to have a gift for having that vision, communicating that vision and then expressing it in built form. This uncompromising attitude has, no doubt, ended in some failures, but has resulted in his built works being, in my opinion, highly successful, even beautiful.
Beautiful is a word that is deeply unfashionable in the visual arts today. Often architects and artists feel ashamed to use it. It sounds unsophisticated, even naïve, and what does it mean anyway? It also precludes the ability to be ironic, a trait that is now highly valued throughout the world of visual arts. In this instance, Zumthor is unusual in that he is honest enough to believe in beauty and to even strive for it. He believes that buildings should be beautiful and I would agree with him that all the buildings of his that I have seen are indeed deeply moving. They have a directness and a refinement that is supremely elegant and, yes, even, beautiful.
So how does Zumthor achieve this? Part of the answer lies in his emphasis on materials. He says, ‘it is about how they are; it is about what presence they develop’. And he says that ‘architecture is not so much about form, it is about materials’. A second part of the answer lies in construction. Zumthor believes that the method of construction should come out of the material used. Indeed he is extremely poetic about materials and has a natural sympathy for how they should be put together. He abhors the normal state of affairs in a building where the structure is invisible and the finishes are hung off the structure. For him, the method of construction should be informed by the materials used. This gives his buildings clarity and a directness that is easy to understand and a seeming simplicity that is very human because it is so instantly legible.
Thirdly, Zumthor talks about ‘atmosphere’. This is a harder concept to grasp. In lectures and interviews, he has tried to explain what he means by ‘atmosphere’. He says that ‘architecture is experienced by laymen without thinking’. He says ‘we must let go of cerebral things or academic things and trust intuition’. It seems that his design starts with the idea of expressing a feeling or a sense or an ‘atmosphere’ and he holds onto this idea, passing through his great respect for material which then informs the method of construction until at the end the building has a form and a ‘soul’. He says that ‘there is no difference between the two sentences – the building is beautiful and the building has soul.’
Where did Zumthor get this rather uncompromising architectural method and poetic view of the world? Part of the answer to that question can be found in the town of Chur, the regional capital of Graubunden, the canton where Zumthor grew up. Zumthor is a great admirer of an obscure brutalist church built in this small city. Brutalism is a style of architecture that is deeply disliked by most at present, especially in Britain. Attempts have been made, by Elaine Harwood for example, in her rather dry book ‘Space, Hope and Brutalism’, to rehabilitate this expressive period in architecture but without much success. It seems that the raw sculptural qualities of brutalism just are not yet appreciated, in this country at least. But, for Zumthor, the uncompromising rawness of the ‘Heiligkreuzkirche’ by Walter Forderer is an inspiration.
Heiligkreuzkirche by Walter Forderer. Exterior view on left and interior view on