Iming Chen - NATIONALE-NEDERLANDEN BUILDING
Prague 1992-96
The Nationale-Nederlanden Building is Frank Gehry's
bold project, in collaboration with Studio Vlado Milunic, set along
the River Vltava in Prague. Created for a Dutch insurance company,
the Nationale-Nederlanden, the building, often called "Fred and
Ginger" for the pair of seemingly dancing towers attached to
the north façade, has been an object showered equally with
praise and criticism.
That Gehry should design a structure with such angularity
and whimsy is no surprise, especially in light of his most recent
projects, the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain and the speculative
New York Guggenheim to be set on the East River; sculptural forms
and odd combinations of contradicting materials have always been his
signature style. Nonetheless, "Fred and Ginger" stands out
of the long list of other structures because Gehry has seldom relied
on such an extreme take on deconstruction. In this way, Gehry, probably
one of the most talented postmodern architects of our time, has created
a building that lends itself to allusions and symbolism. Whether these
may or may not be conscious decisions and product after long contemplation
is uncertain. In whichever case, the Nationale-Nederlanden is important
in its dramatic, unabashed form set in the traditional city of Prague.
Individual Expression in a Communist City
The setting of the Nationale-Nederlanden is significant.
For a city that was under communist rule for a long time, the architecture
of Prague has remained historical in style, a mixture of Baroque,
Medieval, and Functionalism. Even today, Prague has retained the conservative
nature instilled by communism, as evident from the fact that the majority
of architectural projects in the city is restricted to historical
preservation instead of new buildings. As part of the communist tradition
of stifling individual expression, Prague has seen a complete divorce
between architecture and art. Under previous rule, architects worked
in large state firms of up to 800 people responsible for industrial
buildings and the massive concrete-panel housing blocks that line
the edges of the city. Emphasis was on efficiency, ease of construction,
and the provision of functional, democratic buildings in mass quantities.
Neither aesthetics nor individuality was very important in communist
architecture.
Perhaps that is one reason Gehry's work seems
so appropriate in such a bland landscape; the brashness and individuality
of the Nationale-Nederlanden reflects a new generation and represents
the personal freedom and modernity lacking in the previous decade.
The construction of the Nationale-Nederlanden is also a blatant rejection
of the archaic communist values; it was not efficient, easy to construct,
or economic in the least bit. Instead, the interior spaces were not
planned to maximize floor space, and each of the 99 concrete panels
that make up the facade are uniquely curved in three dimensions, making
mass production impossible. Even the nickname for the towers of the
Nationale-Nederlanden, "Fred and Ginger," an allusion to
the famed dancing American film icons Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers,
is symbolic; such a moniker represents the glamour and the beautiful
world of Hollywood cinema lacking in the utilitarian city, not to
mention the desire of its people for transforming Prague into a more
cosmopolitan metropolis.
If the purpose of Gehry's Nationale-Nederlanden were
merely to provoke and dismiss the attitude of the past, then it would
be an understatement to claim that the structure was wholly successful;
not since the fall of the communist party in 1989 has the city of
Prague seen such a flagrant celebration of creativity and excess of
construction purely for aesthetics.
Deconstruction and Destruction
Nonetheless, as much as the Nationale-Nederlanden
has gathered the enthusiasm of the people of Prague and worldwide,
there have been stern critics as well. For instance, Wolfgang Pehnt,
calls Gehry's "an aesthetics of the ugly." Others, as Wilfried
Dechau, editor of "deutsche bauzeitung," has compared
the building to a "crushed can of Coke" and admonished Gehry's
structure for being too flippant within a setting that has endured
great social, political, and economic change. Dechau is not entirely
wrong and makes a good point. Postmodernism involves deconstruction,
which in turn invokes destruction, especially in Gehry's case; it
refers to violence, and Gehry's structure seemingly recreates the
effects of destruction. The left tower of the building looks as if
it has been crushed in the middle and is ready to topple at any moment,
while the body of the building seems to be sustaining such pressure
that its windows have pushed out of alignment. While Prague has been
fortunate in avoiding the bombing that destroyed many other European
cities in World War II, it is perhaps not by coincidence that the
site of the Nationale-Nederlanden has seen its share of bloodshed;
ironically, the building that preceded it was destroyed on February
14, 1945 by a stray American bomb supposedly headed for Dresden.
In effect, Gehry's design serves as a reminder
for the violence of World War II. As such, the twisted structure has
a historical dimension, as a monument that painful and horrific experiences
did happen in Prague. If Prague had adhered to the communist building
policies, a recreation of the destroyed building would probably stand
now. But that would negate the significance of the historical roots
of the city; it would be as if to pretend nothing has happened, which
is an irreverent mentality. Surprisingly, such would have been the
preference of critics like Dechau and Pehnt.
That Gehry is an architect with a "growing
awareness of his "Jewishness" is significant as well. The
violence inherent in the Nationale-Nederlanden can further represent
the extermination of Prague's Jewish culture by German occupying forces.
As such, to dismiss "Fred and Ginger" as simply an imaginative
and playful structure would undermine its significance (although,
at the same time, we must also recognize its lightness, because that
is part of Gehry's genius). In this sense, perhaps Gehry's dramatic
structure was the most appropriate "memorial" after all.
http://lava.ds.arch.tue.nl/gallery/praha/f8.jpg
Notice one of the towers of the Nationale-Nederlanden with
its bent steel columns,
resembling a "crushed can of coke" ready to topple.
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http://lava.ds.arch.tue.nl/gallery/praha/f10.jpg
Frank Gehry's dramatic structure, "Fred and Ginger,"
stands in the midst of conservative buildings that make up
the city of Prague.
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While we may conjecture of the rationale behind Gehry's
Nationale-Nederlanden, it is important to note that Gehry never made
any inferences or comments about the wartime references of his design.
There would be good reason for him to disclose of such a gloomy mentality,
especially since the Nationale-Nederlanden is a Dutch insurance company;
it is certainly not good business for an insurance company to allude
to the total destruction of war, when lives become insignificant and
insurance is entirely useless. And it is also impossible to know for
sure whether or not Gehry intended his design to be a symbol of such
grave significance, or any at all. Nonetheless, such is an objective
of art; it should move people and create emotions, and the best art
also tends to provoke new mentalities through subtle symbols. At the
very least, we can contend Gehry did exactly that.
http://lava.ds.arch.tue.nl/gallery/praha/f6.jpg
The windows of the Nationale-Nederlanden are set as if they are in
motion.
We might further suggest that they are indicative of the "violence"
of Gehry's structure,
in that the building seems to be supporting so much pressure from
above that the windows are pushed out of alignment.
References:
Knapp, Gottfried. Frank O. Gehry Energy-Forum-Innovation. London:
Edition Axel Menges, 2000.
Pesch, Josef. "Frank Gehry's 'Ginger and Fred' in Prague."
29 Nov. 2002.
Steele, James. Schnabel House. London: Phaidon Press Limited, 1993.
http://lava.ds.arch.tue.nl/gallery/praha/tgehryen.html