Modernista and Modernism in Barcelona, Part 1

My wife recently suggested a trip to Barcelona. What’s not to like, I thought to myself. It’s a beautiful city full of famous architecture, including the Barcelona Pavilion by Mies van der Rohe and all of that “unusual” Gaudi work. Not to mention the food! So, off we went. Since both of us are architects, the Barcelona Pavilion was on the top of our must-see list. As suggested by friends, we took the double-decker bus tour as soon as we arrived. “Make sure you sit on top,” they told us. “This way you will get an overview of the city before exploring various pockets here and there.” One look at the bus and we weren’t so sure, but in the end it was a valuable tip. We were both excited when the bus approached the Barcelona Pavilion, but the building came and went out of view very quickly. It looked like it had been relocated from its original site, tucked away in some corner (apparently moved to allow for a street widening at some point).

When we finally made it back to the Pavilion for an up-close experience, and actually walked through this iconic masterpiece, we each fulfilled the dream of a lifetime. But the siting of the building struck me; it is situated at the foot of a big hill, tucked against a massive windowless wall of painted plaster, on the edge of a busy road and on axis with – what could only be described as – a very large quonset hut. Yes, this is the original site. And yes, it is a copy from 1986, as the original was torn down shortly after the 1929 Barcelona International Exposition. So, was it as iconic as my days in architecture school had led me to believe? Yes, and no. It is beautifully detailed and proportioned, and the scale of the spaces seemed just right. But, in the end, it is just a pavilion; one large space divided by an onyx wall (though the onyx wall is spectacular). I am certainly glad I stopped by and can appreciate what an unbelievable statement the original pavilion must have made in this particular city and, ultimately, the world of architecture. But on my “I’m all verklempt’o-meter” it was maybe an 8 out of 10.

The pleasant surprise on this trip was Gaudi. I was never a fan of his unusual work. In my mind, it was not as good as Mackintosh, or say Greene and Greene; it was more in line with Frank Furness. Keeping my expectations low, I first visited Park Guell. It was interesting, but as I expected, I saw organic forms and small buildings covered in broken ceramic tile.

Next was La Pedrera (or, the Stone Quarry, a nickname I assume was not meant to be complimentary), the last major project Gaudi designed before dedicating the rest of his life to La Sagrada Familia. La Pedrera is a shockingly modern building on the outside. If it was designed today, it would not look out of place, sans the broken tile roof monitors. That said, the Star Wars stormtrooper-looking chimneys are way cool. The preserved interior apartment is quite beautiful and as detailed as one would expect for the period. However, it is unique in its open plan and the attempts to bring natural light throughout the unit.

So maybe there is something to this guy after all. We ventured on to his so-called master piece, La Sagrada Familia. This was the major surprise. The original construction, completed by the time of his death, was what I had seen throughout my architectural education, and the construction hadn’t really changed much until the mid-70s. However, the progress since then has been considerable. The original façade, known as the Nativity Façade, was pretty much as I expected. It is overly organic, too busy and just over the top. However, once you walk inside there are few words to describe the interior.

My “I’m all verklempt o-meter” cranked up to an 11. Both my wife and I were speechless for the first few minutes. Pictures can’t possibly capture the power of the space – you just have to go and see and experience this building. The exterior that is continuing to be built is a much edgier version of Gaudi’s original and is quite successful by comparison. In my opinion, it actually saves the original from being just another overwrought, historical façade. La Sagrada Familia is a truly unusual architectural experience; a project that will be 140 years in the making by the time it is completed.

So how do you complete 80% of a building after the original architect is gone and a lot of his drawing and models were destroyed during the Civil War in the late 1930s? That seems to be the magic and mystery of this place. While we were there, there was the constant drilling of jackhammers up at the top of the building, like white noise. It reminded me of the final movie in the Matrix trilogy, as the machines were drilling towards Zion, hoping it never stops because that will mean the machines have arrived. In the case of the Basilica, it will mean they have completed the building. For me, the unfinished Basilica could be seen as a metaphor for our incomplete understanding of religion. As such, it seems more fitting in its incomplete state. Regardless, I strongly suggest you get there before they finish. As an architect, I suspect you will better appreciate it as a work in progress. Then again, I’m sure the central tower will be spectacular once completed, so it may be worth the wait.

Modernista and Modernism in Barcelona – a wonderful city that is certainly worth the trip. And don’t forget the tapas.