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And today it is increasingly appropriate, too, in the case of Sir
Norman Foster, Lord Foster - where London is concerned, his work surrounds
us. His Mayoral office building on the South bank opposite St Paul's,
has established an appreciative following. The central courtyard of
the British Museum has transformed circulation and space from the
claustrophobic corridors which characterised its core learning resource
prior to Foster's replanning and redesign there. In the City of London
itself, St Mary Axe, the ancient thoroughfare where stood the Baltic
Exchange has been transformed by stealth (not always Norm's way) to
accommodate the massive yet inimitable Swiss Re Tower.
The building opened formally to its occupants in April but already
there are admiring neighbours, reconciled to 'something different'.
The 'Gherkin', as it has been dubbed, displays precisely those characteristics,
quite rarely experienced, which draw public sympathy, even affection
for works of architecture. There have been no traumas, simply a
growing acceptance in the City of London of the presence of the
tower. One reason for this could be Foster's skill in manipulating
the base of the tower into the street architecture. Unlike most
towers, the lower floors are smaller in area than those above immediately
above, allowing a tapered effect. The tower thus develops a waistline
(not uncommon in an area where the business lunch is still a treasured
part of protocol) - before soaring upwards towards the apex, tapering
elegantly in space.
This is a skilfully orchestrated game of light and controlled reflection.
There is greater daylight penetration at ground level. At 'waist'
level the main advantage of the tapering is that the most populous
floors are more spacious, not less, per individual. And the tedious
effects of solar reflection are minimised as the tower rises to
its apex. Such magic was not feasible a generation ago, and the
evolution of the design has been greatly aided by the various digital
tools deployed in the design office. The new technology applied
permitted the universally curved surfaces of the elevation to be
feasible as individual flat panels, thus greatly simplifying construction.
Rising to 180 m in height, as a process was again made feasible
by the use of a peripheral diagrid, where all the steel elements
subtly interlock. This underlying 'stiffness' in the external diagrid
means that the actual central core can function only as an element
supporting applied loads, and not needed to provide diagonal bracing
- which in turn allows greater flexibility when it comes to the
floor plates. It is good to see again a harmonious interaction between
Foster and Partners and the engineers, Arup, without whom the project
could not have been resolved. The travails of the Millennium Bridge
and its wobble, also a joint operation, seem left far behind.
Looking across from Shad Thames on the South side of Tower Bridge,
Swiss Re seems to have been effortlessly absorbed into the skyline,
as if it was always intended to be there. Perhaps this is the true
achievement of the tower, that it complements handsomely the existing
line-up, as if grown out of it from below rather than imposed (as
are so many point blocks) from above. Yet there was a heavy battle
in negotiation with city planners before permission was obtained.
Foster had to circumvent the well-worn attitudes and alarms of a
planning authority increasingly sceptical of architectural tricks
and devices designed to worm their way through the regulations.
The visual profile finally arrived at seems unwittingly to tug at
old 20th century threats become safe: the profile of an airship
on its side, or the tapering form of a First World War ballistic
shell, or the deadly V2. But all this neutralisation has somehow
generated, by association, a knowing public recognition and acceptability
- as with wartime songs, Siegfried Line and the rest. Association
has always had a role to play in the way we are first confronted
by, then reconciled to, images. Swiss Re is a benign force on the
street.
Internally, Foster has skilfully subdivided the tower with six
triangulated, externalised atriums which provide six orthogonal
bays, making the scale of the spaces internally less overweening.
Then the whole idea of' 'transparency' has been advanced cleverly
by rendering the process one of reflectivity rather than impacted
surfaces. The result has been to give the gherkin a more substantial,
less permeated characteristic than that first floated before the
planners.
And what happens as we rise towards the apex of Swiss Re? A brilliant
restaurant space opens up, reserved for staff and their guests,
with a view of London that is almost unsurpassed. This is a building
perfectly contextual for a London City predicated upon the vision
and designs of Sir Christopher Wren after the Great Fire. The more
one thinks of it, the closer the parallel between Wren and Foster
seems. Wren was the architect of his day, a mathematician and astronomer,
who most aligned architecture with the advance of science of his
time. The same is true of Foster, who has lifted architecture forward
out of the quagmire of history-based theory, into a stratosphere
of its own, marrying engineering, computer science, sustainability,
and pure architecture: yet he does not go blind on contextuality.
It is all there.
The only problem, a small cloud on the horizon, could be that there
is always a Nicholas Hawksmoor emergent in the footsteps of a great
architect. Who now might be Foster's Hawksmoor? He need not worry
quite yet; the chances are such a threat has barely left school.
Swiss Re arrived stealthily on the London skyline, the product
of protracted negotiations between the clients and Foster, and then
the planners. This was to be expected in the light of such a revolutionary
building. The whole idea of the city tower can never be the same
again. This is truly of the 21st century, and a worthy
addition to the new London.
Ed.
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