I first came across Andreas Gursky’s work when I saw two of his photographs at the Constructing Worlds exhibition at the Barbican in 2014. Before I even read the caption of “Montparnasse” (left in the image below) which explained how the picture was processed, I knew it had undergone some sort of digital manipulation. Both the human eye and the camera lens distort the image at the ends therefore the building could never be seen as perfectly square as it looks. Later on I read that one of Gursky’s firm beliefs is that: “Reality can only be shown by constructing it, montage and manipulation paradoxically bring us “closer to the truth”.


The philosophical question that inevitably comes right after is: what is truth? How do we define it and, ultimately is it really that important.

Bear with me in this seemingly unrelated mention of the Acropolis, or to be more precise the Parthenon in Athens, which has been pronounced the most perfect temple ever built since ancient times. This is mainly because of the optical corrections that the ancients invented when they realised that the eye naturally distorts what it sees, therefore no line can be seen as straight. Except if it is not straight.


In fact if the distortion is inverted, and the line is bent the opposite way of how our eyes capture it, the brain is tricked into thinking it is straight. The Parthenon looks perfect because it has no straight lines and all its components are slightly distorted. In other words perfection is achieved through deceit.


Because of my architectural training this is how I read the way that Andreas Gursky chooses to focus his interests. And it is rather obvious that I really like his pictures.

Of course their large scale which invokes a sense of awe to the viewer also plays a part. Regardless of what the curators of this exhibition say about Gursky’s work “challenging our ideas of how photography represents reality”, even if we do not choose to work our brains hard on philosophical questions, these photographs are also simply spectacular to look at.


And they do sum up in a straightforward visual manner, many issues that have to do with the environment, architecture, the concept of collective existence, art and fashion. They also deal with more politically charged issues that have to do with capitalism, mass production, pollution and deterioration of natural resources.


Finally there are images that seem more cryptic, like the ceiling of an airport or the blow-up of a grey carpet. One wonders if these photographs have been created in appreciation of geometry and texture or if they are a quasi-philosophical exploration with zen nuances.

One thing is certain: that Gursky’s pictures are very appealing because of both their scale and their themes that fluctuate between absolute simplicity and obscure abstraction.


One may choose a secondary reading into them or just enjoy their visual qualities. However architecture is very present in the majority of these photographs. Which proves the way that the man-made environment and architecture provide much more than a backdrop for life.

Through many of these pictures is clear that architecture is a product of the politics that create it and in its turn it affects deeply the people whose lives unfold within it.


Gursky has said about photography that it is not just a way to document the world, but rather a way to represent his own ideas about it. His sceptical position against impartial documentation (if there is such a thing) is proven by his very personal view of what he sees around him. A view that we are also invited to share by observing his pictures. But somehow, this very subjective view of things touches a chord in many people. It is not clear to me if this is because most people see its importance similar to what happens with classical music for example, or if it is because it speaks an easy language that is clear to most, in a way that pop culture does. Both or neither, this is an exhibition not to be missed.


The exhibition will be on until the 22nd of April 2018

Visit Hayward Gallery’s website here


Top Left: “Love motion” by Rhys Coren/ Top Right: “Child Hood2 by Collectif coin/ Bottom photos: “Spectral” By Katarzyna Maljka and Joachim Stugocki.


Lumiere London was an interesting experience. It was very cold on both nights that I went and all traffic was stopped in most major West End streets. So we could all walk in the middle of the street and have a totally different perspective of the city. An anarchic pattern of movement emerged that was not dictated by cars and traffic but from the random trajectories of people.

Walking down Regent street towards Piccadilly Circus I was even reminded of 28 days later because of the car-less streets. Still, regardless of the fact that we were not moving according to the usual London rules, we were as consumerist as ever.


Left: “Was that a dream” by Cedric Le Borgne/ Middle: View of Regent Street/ Right: “Harmonic portal” by Christ Plant

Once I had started visiting the sites there was no stopping me. I had to see them all, as if I was collecting them, and so were a lot of others with maps or their special lumiere apps on their phones. There were also plenty of photographers with tripods looking very serious. In fact at Piccadilly Circus I saw a man filming “Voyage” (by Camille Griss and Leslie Epsztein) with both a camera on a tripod and a smart phone, looking at the two screens simultaneously.

I have strong suspicions that this person did not engage emotionally with with the art. A sign of our times where people photograph their food when they go to a restaurant to the point that they forget to eat it while it is still warm.


Left: “Reflektor” by Studio Roso/ Middle: “IFO” by Jacques Rival/ Right: “Lampounette” by Tilt

Some of the people were looking at the lights but most were looking at them through their lenses or on their phone screens. Which explains how often art and architecture, look better on pictures than they do in reality. There is no doubt that something being photogenic adds to its value and marketability.

So, some of the lumiere exhibits photographed well but did not produce a memorable experienced immediately. Some were both compelling in person as they were on “film” and a few of them were hardly noticeable in pictures but the actual experience was magical when there. Like [M]ondes by Atsara on Mount Street Gardens in Mayfair. Lines of light were projected on a building’s façade through a cluster of tense wires giving the effect of fireflies. The experience was enhanced because in the background one could faintly hear the sound of another installation, Illumaphonium (by Michael Davis) 

where the viewers interacted with the exhibit to produce a sweet soundtrack that reminded me of summer nights by the beach, when actually I was literally freezing.


Left: “Origin of the World bubble” by Miguel Chevalier/Middle photos: “[M]ondes” by Atsara/ Right: “Illumaphonium” by Michael Davis

Another of my favourite installations, was the one I encountered the following day at the rather sci-fi environment of Kings’ Cross. It was Aether (by Architecture Social Club and Max Cooper) where lights were projected from two sources on a grid of metal rods accompanied by an electronic soundtrack.

King’s Cross’ large housing blocks around which the exhibits were located, were more impressive than the art itself though. They looked as if they grew out of the ground all at the same time like the buildings in Terry Gilliam’s Brazil dream sequence. They are orderly and new but they lacked the strange refinement of cities which emerge organically and not as part of an incredibly expensive project.

I was looking at the art and thinking of politics and regeneration. What was the meaning of this elaborate gesture in art installations? The traffic was stopped which definitely had an effect on commerce. Was this advertising for the sponsors? Or was the whole shebang aiming to brand London, making it a unique tourist destination which competes with the other European cities.


Top Left: “Waterlicht” by Daan Roosegaarde/ Top right: “Aether” by Architecture Social Club with Max Cooper/ Bottom Left: ” Bottle Festoon” by Community patrners across London Boroughs/ Bottom Right: “Entre les rangs” by Rami Bebawi/ Kanva

On Piccadilly Circus the organisers did not or could not turn off the lights of the massive video billboards right next to “Voyage”. The eye was inevitably drawn to them as they were much brighter. The art seemed almost irrelevant and faded compared to the power of the advertisement. And that was rather symbolic of the city as an unstoppable machine with its purpose, above all, to urge us to consume.


Top Left: “Grabber” by Mader Wiermann/ Top Right “Dot” by Phillippe Morvan/ Bottom Right: “Voyage” by Camille Bross and Leslie Epsztein


When I first came across this exhibition of Paul Catherall’s linocut prints, I was drawn to it by its theme. Brutalism is a staple for architects along with the colour grey, black clothes and weird glass frames. Following my regular style of not researching what I was going to see, I entered Eames Fine Art Gallery.  The first impression was good and weirdly familiar. It was only when I went back home and looked into the artist’s work that I realised I had seen posters of his prints in the tube.


Catherall’s work is focused on London and it is beautiful but also legible. His choice of colour is often unpredictable and surreal but the landmarks are recognisable. Therefore it was not a surprise that TFL commissioned him for a series of posters that highlight these landmarks and their accessibility by London Transport.


Some of the prints in the Brutalism exhibition are more abstract than others and even though I like his work in general, these abstract ones were more interesting to me. Shapes and surfaces of the Hayward Gallery, Southbank Centre and the Lloyd’s building have been de-constructed and recomposed with the use of vibrant colours in a very inspiring way.

After reading a couple of interviews of the artist, I understood better his ethos and how it is related to architecture. Architecture is a practical, literally down to earth, art. Architects create buildings that need to be inhabited and used by people. This is, or rather should be, their first priority. Sometimes when the architecture is really really good, it suggests new ways of moving through space or even living. It can be inspiring and uplifting, but it always has to follow some rules. It needs to provide a safe environment that accommodates people’s needs and quite often, this very restriction is the source of its beauty.


Architects who have aspired to create high art by disregarding people’s needs enter a territory of thin ice. Their appropriation of the building as their own artistic creation is merely a proof of their conceitedness and self absorption. Architecture’s success should be measured by the user’s happiness not the architect’s need for self expression.

When Paul Catherall speaks about enjoying his commissions regardless of the restrictions that they pose, like their need to be legible and relatable, I see his fascination with architecture and also why architects enjoy his prints.


Naturally not all art has to be like that. In fact we need controversial art that defies all rules and tests the boundaries, especially in a world that becomes increasingly conservative and close-minded. However the world needs less self-absorbed artists who care only about themselves and more like Paul Catherall who is devoted to his craft and enjoys communicating that with others.

Maybe I enjoyed this work a lot because it was a exhibition full of buildings in strange colours and I am after all an architect, I cannot help myself. Anyway, if you are south of the river during this weekend, go have a look. You only have a couple of days left.


Eames Fine Art Gallery’s is on

58 Bermondsey Street



The new addition to Tate Modern is a building that attracted the attention of the general public before it was even built. After all since its opening in 2000, Tate Modern has been one of the most visited tourist sites in London. The reason for its success is a combination of factors. Its location, its status in the world of art and without a doubt its architecture as well. Herzog and de Meuron did, back then an undeniably good job with it.

New-tate-2_At a time when industrial relics and retrofuturism was just getting to be fashionable they renovated an existing building, previously a power station and turned it to the hugely famous Tate Modern. The brick bulk, the landmark chimney and the cathedral-like Turbine hall compel the visitor immediately. A composition which demonstrates the importance in the simplicity of straightforward architectural gestures. What could the architects come up with that would be equally strong?


The obvious answer would be at least externally an equally bulky and strict building. So the quasi-pyramidal shape that we watched rise for a few years, was a rather logical decision for a form. It makes me think a bit of children’s blocks and their basic shapes, the rectangle, the pyramid the sphere.


As a first impression though, the outside of the new building is not as interesting as the interior spaces that it encloses. I am not sure why; Is it maybe because the sequel is never as good as the original? The one good thing that I had to give to this building is that somehow it manages to hide its scale; it seems smaller than it is. When I got myself all the way up to the viewing terrace I realised how high it was because one sees the old Tate modern’s roof from above. This is still a sort of an optical illusion because in my memory the original building seems taller, when actually it is not.


Entering the new building from its own entrance on Sumner St. the visitor goes past the restaurant to the left and then has a choice, either take a staircase going down towards The Tanks, the basement part of the building that was first opened a few years back, or go up towards the new galleries. The staircases are beautiful, the detailing is impeccable throughout the interior spaces and has a clean slick feel to it. Beautifully finished concrete with no visible paint and simple black metallic rails.


The route of the visitor is really thought-out well. There are surprises all the way up, little sitting corners, seemingly randomly shaped windows and views as you wind yourself up. Circular stairs, straight stairs design details, inviting corners to sit or balconies one can look over to a foyer at a floor beneath.


Also the way the two buildings are connected, at three levels with the turbine hall on level 0 and then two bridges, one on level 1 and another one on level 4 also enrich the experience and broaden the choices of how to move inside the galleries.


Walking through this building though, interesting as it was, had a negative side to it too. Gallery spaces, which by nature are more introvert in order for the visitor to focus on the art on display were too generic and also felt slightly claustrophobic. The spaces that link them, foyers, staircases and such are much more interesting to walk through.


These connecting spaces had a very weird quality to them as well, the strong voyeuristic character of their windows.

The last 17 years that Tate Modern has existed in this location and as its importance and status increased, so did the value of the land around it.



New housing developments popped up which are mainly luxury apartments. Most of these buildings with their often wall-to-wall curtain windows wide open to the Tate, pose an interesting contradiction. A large display of design furniture and art visibly showing off their status, while at the same time signs everywhere inside the Tate ask us the visitors, to please respect the neighbours privacy.


I thought those signs to be very ironic. It is the contradiction of our way of lives really, obsessed with selfies in an ongoing struggle to show off and attract attention. Only to claim retrospectively false modesty along with the request towards the spectator to look elsewhere. Capitalist exhibitionism in denial is what it felt I was observing. And strangely this stayed with me more than the crisply detailed new building.


Tate Modern web site here



This year’s Serpentine pavilion was designed by Big, an architectural practice whose main force is the 41 year old Danish architect Bjarke Ingels. The practice’s signature is using simple lines in a bold way to support a conceptual story. Usually there is also a playful element in Big’s projects and the user of the building is urged towards a rather adventurous, at times even childlike behaviour. For example they have designed a waste-to-energy-power plant in Copenhagen with a roof that is in fact a ski slope and the Serpentine pavilion (if it weren’t for health and safety measures in the UK) was originally meant to be climbed to the top.


Left photo:Copenhagen Power plant CGI by Big

The pavilion, as has been observed by many writers already, is quite beautiful. It encloses the space but but it also “leaks” views to the park from certain angles. The structure does not however manage to protect from nature’s elements very well, but really how many of the pavilions ever did? Similarly as far as its spatial qualities are concerned, like many of its predecessors, it photographs better than it feels when visited.


This year though I would like to focus on an event that I attended when I went there for the first time, on June 24th one day after UK’s famous referendum that decided the future of the country within the European Union. That strange day, Implicated theatre a group of theatre practitioners, funded by Serpentine Galleries and directed by Frances Rifkin took over the space. Implicated theatre’s performances are based on Augusto Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed which is an experimental workshop-based practice that aims to “explore the relationships between political speech and action”1. Usually a scene is presented to the audience who later on is urged to participate in transforming it by taking the place of one of the original actors. The focus usually is underprivileged people and their stories. Their struggles and their interpretation of their experiences within the frame of society and its political structures.


This particular performance called Towards a Radio Ballad: Songs of the Journey emerged from a year-long collaboration with unionised migrant hotel workers from Unite’s Hotel Workers Branch. As described in Serpentine Gallery’s website: “The sound piece that accompanied the performance, is a sketch working towards a possible Radio Ballad, taking its cue from Charles Parker’s original BBC Radio Ballads, a series that aired from 1958-1964.

The audience was divided in two groups depending on whether they had ever worked in the Services industry or not. Walking freely within the pavilion we were given trays and by holding them the feeling of being a waiter was simulated. The stories of actual migrants who have come to London and worked as waiters were heard in the background. In the actual scene presented by the actors and later on moulded by the audience’s participation, a waiter was cheated out of his tips by the head waiter, a common story of professional abuse of power. I will not go into details on what happened as the experience of it is what really matters.



Photographs by Lewis Ronald

The intellectualisation of a workshop-based performance where everyone’s conclusions are purely personal would diminish the importance of the experience with weak generalisations. In the end though we were all given seats and a microphone went around. People spoke of how they felt and shared thoughts on their being in that particular space as part of the group. Very personal stories were heard that attested oppression and injustice. Migrants’ search for a better life by leaving their country of origin were juxtaposed with the dramatic political events in the country, as the decision of the previous day’s referendum. Ultimately the migrants’ journey instead of easier is going to become much more difficult. Surrounded by the loose boundary of the pavilion, we were confronted with the sad reality of a world that chooses to become more closed-minded and closed-bordered. And the feelings were real, people spoke of their lives and their families passionately and even cried.


Left photo by Lewis Ronald. Middle and right by the writer

Never did I expect to experience the sharing of real emotions and harsh truths about major political events, especially in a group, within the Serpentine Summer Pavilion. A space which is a product created and consumed by an international cultural and economic elite. Most nights at the pavilion not that many working class people are present, other than the waiters of course. And there is not that much truth spoken by the well-groomed guests that sip cocktails while exchanging empty pleasantries.

June 24th ‘s performance placed a small bomb of controversy within the fabric of the pavilion focusing on the lives of those who stay in the background unseen and uncelebrated. The space of the pavilion did not matter to me that night, not because its architecture was unworthy but because no architecture should be more important than the people who inhabit it.



1. From Implicated Theatre’s website

Serpentine Pavilion’s website here

Big’s website here

Read about Theatre of the Oppressed here

Implicated theatre’s website here

Park nights Towards radio website here



I know this is beyond old news. In fact the pavilion has only one day to go until it is taken down. My article was so extremely delayed partly because of personal reasons and partly because I was so underwhelmed by this structure. Still I thought it made sense to write something about it, even if it is only for the records.


Same as every year I try to turn a blind eye to the waste of money that the Serpentine is (this year Goldman-Sach’s money to be exact) and focus more on its artistic value. It is built as an architectural experiment in order to remind to the public that architecture is an art and it may carry strong representational and symbolic values. As Brian Eno pointed out in his John Peel lecture on BBC radio 6 recently, art is basically not necessary. Eno said that art in most areas of culture is exactly what one does not need in order to survive but ultimately is exactly what brings to us the greatest pleasure.


Things get complicated with architecture because undoubtedly it is an art but a structure cannot really claim the title of “architecture” if people cannot enter it or use it. According to most historians this is the very reason why the Parthenon in Athens is not really considered a building. More often it is seen as sculptural work of art because it was never entered by the cult’s believers. Naturally I would not even try to associate this shiny-plastic worm of a “building” with the Parthenon. The only thing that they have in common is the fact that they both were not used as a shelter of any sort. Obviously I am exaggerating because the entrance to this year’s pavilion was not forbidden. However on the beautiful summer day that I visited it I witnessed people rushing out of it more than they were willing to stay in it. The reason was that it had a micro-climate. It was extremely warm and humid the fans which were installed inside had to work full time in order to make any short stay there bearable.


Selgascano, the Spanish architectural office that won the commission was not aiming for that effect I am sure. They did not do much to anticipate it or prevent it either. No aesthetic goal is important enough (according to my standards) to counterbalance the lack of viability of a building.


And this particular one did not even manage to reach a very high standard of aesthetics either. It looks cheap, the plastic looks and feels and like plastic and the ribbons give a juvenile and crafty air to it. Not to mention the metal structure which supports it that according to the contractors had to be extremely precise for the structure to hold nonetheless, managed to look totally random.


The one real success of this year’s Serpentine pavilion is that it is very photogenic, hence it scored high Instagram-points. Appearances are most important nowadays, people are more keen to photograph their food than eat it. Therefore this hot-air balloon is both literally and metaphorically exactly that: bright colourful and totally devoid of substance and meaning.


The Serpentine pavilion website here

Selgascano website here

Brian Eno’s John Peel Lecture here



20 Fenchurch Street Tower or Walkie Talkie as it is usually referred as is not far from where I live. I watched it go up slowly for years and I never particularly liked it. To be more accurate I actually always disliked it. Every time I cycle west down Whitechapel Road it dominates the skyline totally filling up the horizon.

20 Fenchurch building seen by Whitechapel street and Algate East. Dominating the horizon

20 Fenchurch building seen by Whitechapel Road and Algate East. Dominating the horizon

As it was being built I realised that it was flaring up the taller it became. For a little while I appreciated its geometry and was rather intrigued by the potentially interesting engineering calculations it required. However when I came across the drawing of the original idea and saw how much taller it was supposed to be it occurred to me that there was something wrong with its proportions. Proportions determine a building’s scale hence are extremely important.

The Walkie Talkie hovering over the street

The Walkie Talkie hovering over the street

Therefore if a building is ultimately constructed shorter and wider than its original design, it shows. And this is just one of the conclusions that one comes to by examining Walkie Talkie superficially, as a sculptural object. Something which I always find secondary in critiquing a high-rise.

Going up to the higher part of the "garden"

Going up to the higher part of the “garden”

Researching a bit the building’s Skygarden I discovered that it was not part of the original concept. The tower which is not situated in the part of the City where all the other high-rises are, was at first denied planning permission. The case was eventually reviewed and permission was granted because the architect pledged to give the top floor to the public. A smart and cheeky move. I am usually put off by investors’ justifications. Especially when they advertise their generosity which is often a calculated move in order to get their way.

Another interesting fact about Walkie Talkie is that the true reason for the building getting larger in plan towards the top, had nothing to do with creativity and architectural inspiration. It was mainly a smart idea in order to increase the rentable floor space of the upper floors where it is considerably more expensive. The skygarden was the idea that helped the project go through but profit was again in the heart of that decision. A large part of the top floor’s space is occupied by private restaurants.

The restaurants dividing the "garden" in half. Bulky and disproportionate volumes

The restaurants dividing the “garden” in half. Bulky and disproportionate volumes

The garden is divided in half by the bulky volume of the restaurants and is reduced to two sloping areas where the plants are placed. The sitting areas are basically a couple of small seats in the middle of these slopes. In case they are found empty, they are impossible to enjoy as they are constantly coveted by the hundreds of visitors.

The very few sitting areas cannot really be enjoyed by anyone. A fact that beats the whole purpose of naming the place "Skygarden"

The very few sitting areas cannot really be enjoyed by anyone. A fact that beats the whole purpose of naming the place “Skygarden”

Places like this, especially when there is a deadline in the time that one is allowed to stay there, make relaxing there extremely difficult. Ultimately this is a space to be consumed. It exists to go see and maybe take a selfie at, in order to be able to say, “been there done that”.

Of course there is the view, which is undeniable. Any 360 view from a high building is always fascinating. Even from this particular building which most people find rather ugly. The proportions are wrong the detailing is wrong, it feels clumsy and crude and somehow pretentious.

The building is rather crudely detailed. Lacks elegance but offers some good views

The building is rather crudely detailed. Lacks elegance but offers some good views

And to top all that, it melted a couple of cars and set the carpet of a shop across the street on fire with the beam of sunlight that was reflected off it before its brise-soleil panels were installed. Later on its architect Rafael Viñoly stated that he remembered London less sunny which to say the least seems like a ridiculous excuse for the poorly thought out implications of the building’s geometry.

Diagram of how the reflected sunbeams (also known as the deathray) melted parked cars and burned shop carpets

Diagram of how the reflected sunbeams (also known as the deathray) melted parked cars and burned shop carpets

The experience of visiting Skygarden did not leave an indelible impression in my memory. Yes it was free which was good but one has to book in advance, bring a photo ID and go through the airport-like security of x-rays and metal detectors. The hostesses in fake fur that check the IDs and give information look like airline hostesses giving a sexualised 60’s air to the experience that made me rather uncomfortable.

The hostess the metal detector and what you see as you come out of the elevator

The hostess the metal detector and what you see as you come out of the elevator

Once upstairs I did not go immediately to the terrace as most people do. Instead I felt the need to check out first the “garden” which in fact is not visible when you first step out of the elevator. Going up the steps towards the higher level of the “garden” I had what I call “a Planet of the Apes moment”.

My "Planet of the Apes" moment. When it crossed my mind that we are nearing the end of civilisation

My “Planet of the Apes” moment. Seeing the top of other skyscrapers through the plants

Seeing the Gherkin and the Cheesegrater towers through the plants, reminded me of the classic science fiction film when the protagonists realise that the end of civilisation has occurred as soon as they see the remains of the statue of Liberty. The top of the towers through the plants was a similarly compelling image.

Inside the sky garden the restaurant balcony looks like the desert

Inside the sky garden the restaurant balcony looks like the desert

After that I went further up at the restaurant’s terrace which is shockingly bare. What garden? That was the desert. So sad, empty and disorientating, as far away from the concept of the garden as possible. The whole experience seemed more of a hoax. Eventually I went outside to the terrace where I enjoyed my 15 minutes of false superiority that any visit to a skyscraper ultimately is all about.

20 Fenchurch Street's terrace experience

20 Fenchurch Street’s terrace experience

Once again I got to think about how twisted the whole concept of public space is getting to be. This place is as public as any London square owned by a private company that you can quietly stay in if you obey a set of rules of behaviour. No skating, no smoking, no protesting, no rough sleeping and who knows what else. Public space seems to be turning into a plane of restrictions which slowly but surely squeezes the freedom out of our lives. This is not as science-fiction-like as it seemed during my Planet of the Apes moment. Slowly but surely the only thing allowed in these so-called-public places will be to marvel at capitalism’s overwhelming superiority, solidified in scary tall buildings that the masses will be able to admire from a distance.

Book your visit to the Skygarden here

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