Sometimes We Do It Right
Decisions, decisions. There may not be as many approaches to architectural criticism as there are to architectural style but there are still plenty around for sure. The formal approach championed by Louise Huxtable. Historical by the likes of Paul Goldberger. Experiential by Herbert Muschamp. Activist by Michael Sorkin. So on and so forth. This essay relies on a combination of formal and historical as befits its subject. The Lewis Mumford (not and Sons) walkthrough is adopted with its emphasis on the visual. A sprinkling of the sustainable approach is added to the mix. It’s a tale of two architects two centuries apart anchored by continuing moments of beauty. Dr Roderick O’Donnell, one of London’s leading architectural historians, is on standby for soundbites.
Time now for a whistlestop tour. Trinity Square is a quoin stone’s throw from the Tower of London. No.10 is a bombastic Beaux Arts building commissioned by the Port of London Authority in 1911. Designed by Edwin Cooper, its superscaled stony vastness tries hard to dominate the square. To borrow Oswald Spengler’s phrase, Edwin’s construct is “swaggering in specious dimensions”. Somewhat aptly it will soon reopen as London’s first six star hotel. Woods Bagot has slotted a 121 bedroom hotel and 30 apartments into its titanic floorplates.
But this essay isn’t about No.10. Although the neighbouring building may be significantly lower in scale, its dignified presence holds its own. Welcome to Trinity House, Trinity Square. Samuel Wyatt’s masterpiece, an authoritative assimilation of Greco Roman style. Over to Rory: “His younger and better known brother James is more flash. Samuel is a much more controlled architect – he’s not headline. He is best known for designing a series of sold satisfying small country houses.” Isabella Blow’s family seat Doddington is one example. Built in the 1790s, Trinity House displays the Wyatt dynasty’s love of the lateral. “Horizontal emphasis is a Wyatt trait,” confirms Rory.
The ground floor is presented as a channelled stone rusticated podium with the order raised above framing the principal floor. The central segmental arched doorway is set in a three bay reticent recess flanked on either side by single bay projections with segmental arched tripartite windows. These deferential round headed apertures act as a counterpoint to overall elevational orthogonality. Upstairs, paired unfluted Greek Ionic pilasters distinguish the outer bays. Just as François Mansart gave his name to a certain type of roof, James Wyatt popularised a window type. The Wyatt window is a tripartite arrangement resembling a Palladian window (another eponymous architectural term) with the arch omitted and the entablature carried over the wider central window. Samuel places Wyatt windows over the doorway and on the first floor of the outer bays. Matching unfluted Greek Ionic columns frame the central bay with single windows on either side. Balustraded aprons fill the space below the five windows. Above, relief panels display nautical emblems and together with a couple of busty mermen hint at the building’s use. A dentilled cornice over a plain entablature surmounts the façade
The side elevation to the left is five bays wide but squeezes in an extra floor at entablature level, resulting in a more domestic scale and character. Wyatt continues the rustication of the ground floor. A string course is the only decoration on the upper two floors. There is no rear elevation. The building abuts others behind. To the right of Wyatt’s façade is a 1950s extension by Sir Albert Richardson. Yikes! The era that taste forgot. Fear not. Sir Albert’s addition is a lesson in architectural good manners. Rory pronounces, “Richardson’s work prolongs the lines of the original but is kept subordinate by setting back the two bay link and differentiating the appearance through the very subtle use of light brick on the upper storey.” A three sided canted bay terminates the Tower Hill frontage. A full stop. Sir Albert repeats the ground floor rustication and introduces another Wyatt window in the middle of the canted projection. Look now: the two angled walls are slightly recessed. Look up: this seemingly minor detail magnifies to create an almost pagoda effect when the cornice is viewed from the forecourt.
“The roof usually isn’t visible in classical architecture,” explains Rory, “so Richardson correctly treats it as a separate architectural entity. He clad it in copper. Richardson enjoyed and was adept at working with metals. His Financial Times building near St Paul’s, the first post war building in England to be listed, incorporates bronze framed casements and cornices trimmed with copper.” The wrought iron weathervane of a 16th century ship jauntily perched on a copper ball provides the finial. An exclamation mark! The side elevation to the right of the frontage appears as one large canted bay with three central openings. A flying first floor wing links this elevation to the building behind. Again Richardson uses metal: an expanse of glass on either side is framed in bronze with rosettes crowning the joins.
Back to Rory: “Richardson was a very competent Georgian revival architect. He was a neo Georgian in every sense – he lit his house with candles and wore 18th century costume. Richardson wasn’t interested in Soane – he would have considered him too radical, not Georgian enough. He wanted to revive Georgian architecture and wasn’t interested in developing a big commercial practice. Unlike the boring hackneyed neo Palladian architects of today, Richardson was his own man. “
Ding-a-ling-ling. Time to go indoors. What’s the relationship of container to contents? That’s a question for the Nazis to answer. A World War II bomb landed on the, er, landing on a Saturday evening in 1940. The ensuing fire gutted the building. Although the furniture was destroyed, the paintings, silver and records were fortuitously in storage. Richardson reconstituted a slightly streamlined version of Samuel Wyatt’s interiors relying on 1919 Country Life photographs. “Most of the rooms, certainly in the original block, look like convincing 18th century interiors,” Rory reckons. Richardson excels at imbuing space with meaning. A sense of scale and proportion is achieved through carefully controlled containment, boundaries and direction. The low ceiling of the entrance hall accentuates the dramatic sequence of what lies beyond – and above. Applied decoration in the entrance hall takes the form of incised panels and niches holding lighthouses. A further clue to the building’s use. Walking past the ground floor timber panelled cloakroom, Rory observes, “So much of Richardson’s detailing is implied, reticent, recessed rather than extruded.”
A pair of Roman Doric columns with gilded capitals, sea green scagliola shafts and black bases heralds the approach to the staircase hall. This tripartite opening is an unglazed variation of the Wyatt window and is a recurring motif throughout the building. Just as the stairway is one of the great architectural problems, so Samuel’s is one of the great solutions. On axis of the entrance door the staircase is both complexly configured and perfectly, restfully modulated. The upper two treads of the first flight bow inwards as if in anticipation of the bowed flights to come. Such rhythm of compression and vertical expansion of space stretching heavenward to a clerestory and trompe l’oeil ceiling. The stone treads cantilevering out from the great semicircular apse. The fine wrought iron balustrade with anthemion panels. Sometimes they do it right. Samuel Wyatt and Sir Albert Richardson making waves. A tongue shaped secondary staircase slips in behind the main event. Entablatures of Ionic columns facing the landing carry mini galleries with balustrades and pairs of caryatids. Rory spots a sea change in design direction. “The introduction of the Ionic order gives a different flavour to this floor. It suggests thinking, something more intellectual.”
Off the landing is the Court Room. It’s the same size as the three bay entrance hall below but has a high ceiling above a deep cove. A trompe l’oeil sky by Glyn Jones adds to the feeling of latitude. “Jones was a very ambitious figurative painter of the mid 20th century,” notes Rory. This room has the character of a country house saloon. A gilt framed mirror stands over the while marble with ormolu detail fireplace. Six full length majestic regal portraits grace the walls: George III and Queen Charlotte by Gainsborough Dupont; William IV and Queen Adelaide by Wills Beechey; Edward VII by Frank Holl and George V by John Collier. A hemicycle shaped wine table sits on the Killybegs woollen carpet. Tall double mahogany doors with ormolu escutcheons open into the Luncheon Room. Oyster sea shell pink wallpaper awaits.
The first floor of Sir Albert’s wing contains three main interconnecting rooms. The intimate Reading Room, the large Library and an annex called the Pepys Room which is lit by the metal framed windows. At first the Library’s function is not apparent as the books are concealed behind doors in the panelling. The two ends are treated as ellipses with the south end accommodated in the projecting canted bay. Stained glass dating from the 16th century is placed in the sashes. “I think one would know this is a 20th century room. It’s very pretty with beautiful detailing based in the vernacular,” observes Rory. “In using the term ‘vernacular’ I am of course referring to domestic Georgian architecture. ‘High street Georgian’ to coin a phrase.” He’s on a roll. “There are extensive drawings in his seminal publication Regional Architecture of the West of England. For example, Richardson meticulously studies traditional shop fronts. The inventiveness and attention to detail – look again at the Library panelling, the Pepys Room fenestration – are clearly derived from his studies.”
Trinity House is the headquarters of a guild of mariners established in the 1300s. The safety of shipping and the wellbeing of seafarers have been its main concerns ever since Trinity House was granted a charter by Henry VII in 1514. Samuel Pepys was a former master. Princess Anne is the current master. Present elders include Earl Spencer and Baron Browne of Madingley. Three times in its history Trinity House has had its headquarters destroyed by fire. The first two times were the Great Fire of London of 1666 and the Water Lane Fire of 1716. Today, Trinity House serves three functions. Firstly, it is the General Lighthouse Authority for England, Wales, the Channel Islands and Gibraltar. Secondly, a charity dedicated to the safety, welfare and training of mariners. Thirdly, it is the Deep Sea Pilotage Authority providing expert navigators for ships trading in northern European waters. The guild’s offices occupy the ground and top floors of the headquarters. That leaves the first floor shipshape suite of rooms available to hire for christenings, bar mitzvahs, samskaras. Around 300 events are held here each year. Hark! Next year, a special event will take place. Trinity House will celebrate its 700th anniversary.
Complements, compliments. Time to reflect on the architecture once more. This is a building by two designers or engineers or engineer designers working at the height of their powers, a complete work of substance. Future proofing, to use the latest dire planning jargon, was probably not top of Wyatt’s agenda. But his architecture remains aesthetically pleasing to the modern eye and with Richardson’s help has adapted well to contemporary requirements. That’s what’s called… eek more planningease … sustainable development. Stop. In a final Huxtablesque moment, the scale of the building, the subtlety and seriousness of the architectural style and material, of sculpted stone and smooth brick; the visible and tangible continuity of London’s Georgian tradition; the accent and nuance – colour, size, style, massing, space, light, dark, solids, voids, highs and lows – all are just right.
If Ada Louise Huxtable said you’re good, you’re good. She was the American queen of architectural criticism (died in 2013). The visual counterpart to her literary excellence was Deborah Turbeville the American monarch of the camera (died in 2013). United States creative royalty. “The high priest of High Tech” is how she described Norman Foster (still going strong aged 90) in On Architecture, 2008. The first architecture critic of The New York Times (reigned supreme from 1963 to 1981), Ada was blessed with good looks and a way with words: “The English architect Norman Foster is a master of fine tuned exquisitely honed minimal technology. In his choice of materials and structure he uses, with remarkable eloquence, a fastidious aesthetic that derives from engineering but quietly makes it clear to the viewer (as with the 1991 exhibition rooms of the Royal Academy of Arts in London) that a series of highly intelligent choices has been made.”
Hilton Hotel Heathrow looks like it was designed by Norman Foster. It wasn’t. It’s unknown if Ada critiqued Michael Manser Associates but if she had it may well have been along the lines that they are the high priest acolytes of High Tech. Completed in 1990, the hotel (formerly known as the Sterling) gets a mention in Flying in the Face of Mediocrity, an article scribed by Alan Powers for the 28 February 1991 edition of Country Life. He applauds how the transparency of High Tech architecture recaptures the romance of travel. The hotel gets a mostly positive reception:
Over to the architects, “The requirement was for a four star four hundred bedroom hotel on the south side of Heathrow Airport adjacent to Terminal 4. Our client specifically wanted a landmark building on a tight budget. A very clear spatial and organisational brief from the client allowed us to produce an extremely efficient plan where two blocks of bedrooms flanked a large atrium within which were all the public areas. The hotel was designed, built and opened in 27 months, including the planning process. The hotel was the first in the UK planned around a central atrium, was the first to use cement particle board for partitioning and developed an entirely bespoke but economic external cladding system. The huge atrium, with extensive views east and west creates a dramatic effect. The arrival at the hotel certainly sparks a level of theatre and drama not normally seen at airport hotels.”
Moving on, central lounge as airport hangar, a spectacular solid plane to glass expanse ratio, making a virtue out of fire escapes as elegant as Art deco diving pool spiral staircases, the Heathrow Hilton Hotel is a bold statement aging well. That’s the thing about architecture ahead of its time: four decades later it looks contemporary. There’s been a recent atrium refurb by Hirsch Bedner Associates. Associate Director and project lead Matteo Pace states, “All too often airport hotels lack character and imagination, so we were thrilled that Hilton were open to us being creative, allowing us to design a welcoming space that is connected to nature. Located at one of Europe’s busiest airports, the public spaces at the Hilton need to cater to all guests. Be it leisure or corporate visitors, we wanted to create somewhere that they can really enjoy and that enhances their travel experience through inspiring, thoughtful design.” A sculptured chandelier radiating over reception and wooden walls echoing “the undulating British landscapes” are resultant highlights.
What’s it like to stay in these days? Well there’s a catwalk straight from the hotel to Terminal 4 Departures. A Planet Burger (plant based patty, tomato chutney, gem lettuce, smoked Applewood, red onion, pickles, potato bun, plant mayo, fries) in the atrium restaurant is a good distraction from onward destinations. As is the gaggle of gorgeous Emirates airhostesses gathering in reception. The diamond shaped plan means the atrium is sandwiched between two cliffs of sleeping accommodation. A backlit pixelated map of Europe takes the place of meaningless art in each guest room. Crabtree and Evelyn toiletries encircle a Porcelanosa teardrop basin in the en suite bathrooms. A triangular wedge of precious green and blue outdoor space is attached to the rear of the hotel offering fresh produce. Ada Louise Huxtable would approve: to her sustainability was always more than just design.
