adma
Superstar
And then there's the whole Grange aspect...
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And then there's the whole Grange aspect...
US's detailed answer is well thought-out and I agree with most points, but I think that one of the two buildings does come off better than the other in this regard, and that's the AGO. The ROM does have a chance to close the gap though as they continue to open galleries and hopefully improve things like their terribly ugly fire doors and the slapped up panels on the Stair of Wonders. The AGO just doesn't look like compromises have been made with cheap materials or workmanship, whereas the ROM does look that way in places.
42
PS - Why dues the ROM have those horrible crash doors all over the place while the AGO has none?
marcus_a_j
Senior Member
From The Star
ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO: ARCHITECTURAL REVIEW
Revamped AGO a modest masterpiece
Architect doesn't seek to reinvent the art gallery, just perfect it
Nov 13, 2008
Christopher Hume
The Art Gallery of Ontario may not be one of Frank Gehry's biggest projects, but it is one of his best.
The scope of the scheme, a $276-million remake of the venerable institution, simply didn't give the architect the financial and physical wherewithal needed to produce the sort of monument that captures the world's attention and changes cities.
But what the world doesn't know won't go unnoticed – or unappreciated – here in Toronto. To put it simply, Gehry's revamped AGO is a masterpiece, but just as important, it is the easiest, most effortless and relaxed architectural masterpiece this city has seen.
Just as great virtuosi make playing a musical instrument look like something a kid could do, great architects have a way of making their works appear inevitable. There is simply no other way the gallery could have ended up; this is it. Or so we believe.
Nothing about the new AGO smacks of being arbitrary, eccentric or driven by vanity, the desire to shock, or, for that matter, please. This is a building that takes its every cue from the program; it is a place to view art.
That means displaying works in well-lit rooms with enough space to wander around as required. It also means designing an institutional building that can function as an intellectual, social and retail hub. As well as galleries, there must be the usual washrooms, restaurants, shops, offices, lobbies and theatres, the whole panoply of the 21st-century cultural centre.
Gehry has delivered brilliantly; to walk these new spaces is to see the work of a contemporary master, an architect completely comfortable in his own skin. There are no empty flourishes, no anxious moments, no embarrassing attempts to play to the audience; the building is defined from first to last by purpose and need.
Such restraint from one so celebrated runs counter to the spirit of the time. So let us all take a moment out of our busy day, bow our heads and quietly give thanks to Frank Gehry. This is a building that serves us, not him.
Comparisons are of limited use, but one can't help but think of the new AGO in light of Daniel Libeskind's controversial addition to the Royal Ontario Museum, the Michael Lee-Chin Crystal. For all its remarkable qualities, the Crystal doesn't serve the ROM so much as it presents an idea about architecture. It is the subject of its own drama.
By contrast, Gehry's AGO is a building about art, and the viewing thereof. It is also a building that addresses the city of which it forms part. Never before has the gallery felt so connected to its surroundings. This will be immediately evident to anyone who spends time in the Galleria Italia, which extends east/west along most of the front façade. This is the sculpture atrium that faces Dundas St. from behind the "visor."
No doubt it will one of the most popular spots in the new building, and a wonderful example of the architect's interest in context.
"I'm an egomaniac like all the others," Gehry once joked, "but I'm a Canadian egomaniac. Modesty is built into our lives. My buildings are inclusive. You respect what's next door, even when it doesn't look like what you want it to. If you just see pictures of the Bilbao Guggenheim, you think it's Martian or something, but I spent a lot of time fitting it into the city."
And it's true; the Guggenheim, for all its outlandishness, sits so well on its site that it's not just part of the city, it is the city. The museum is a microcosm of Bilbao, addressing the city, the Nervion River that flows through it, and even accommodating its transit system, which passes close by.
By contrast, the AGO is a more modest project. It doesn't seek to reinvent the art gallery, just perfect it. The changes, inside and out, are extensive, but the intention is to maximize display space, and provide a flow between them. The most dramatic of the new spaces are the contemporary galleries on the fourth and fifth floors. The addition means that important Canadian artists – General Idea, Michael Snow, Paterson Ewen and others – get a room of their own.
The floors are also connected by a striking spiral staircase that reaches out from the rear façade (clad in blue titanium) a full 11.5 metres. This isn't the result of some weird Toronto bylaw, though God knows there are enough. It's there as a gesture. It offers hitherto unseen views of the city, from the Ontario College of Art and Design's "flying tabletop" as far south as Lake Ontario. Though it will improve access between the two floors of contemporary art galleries, the real purpose is our pleasure.
This motif of the spiral reappears in two fire exits at the back and, most memorably, in an extended stairwell that snakes down from the top floor through the roof of Walker Court and out one of its large arched openings. It is an amazing piece, one that introduces something new while highlighting the old. Walker Court has been invaded, occupied, altered forever, but happily.
Speaking of Walker Court, it has been restored to its original position as the centre of the gallery. Gehry has moved the main entrance west along Dundas so that it lines up with the court. Look carefully, and you can see right through from the front door to the Grange at the back. A new mezzanine level has also been added to the Walker, all of which means it's harder than ever to get lost.
Gehry's curves also show up in the ramp area between the front door and the ticket counter. Called the Serpentine, it meanders around an opening that allows for views to the basement where Ken Thomson's extraordinary collection of model ships can be seen. (A quick prediction here: Forget art. The boats will fast become the AGO's most visited exhibit.)
Thomson, Toronto über-collector and reluctant philanthropist, deserves much of the credit for making the project happen. Not only did he donate his extensive art holdings, he anted up $90 million in cash. Some thought a family worth more than $20 billion might have given more, but until his death in June 2006, Thomson remained deeply committed to the project.
Of course, the 21st-century gallery must also tend to our needs to eat, shop and party. These facilities are accommodated seamlessly, clad in the same Douglas fir trim as the rest of the building.
One of the nicest touches, however, is one most will never notice. Look carefully at the Dundas façade, and you'll see the cables that support the streetcar wires are attached directly to the AGO. Although you'd think the city and the TTC would have been thrilled by the offer, getting permission wasn't easy. The result is that the usual City of Toronto standard-issue utility poles have been removed and this stretch of Dundas has never looked better.
"It's hard to do galleries," Gehry admits, "hard to get them right. It's about how you light the galleries, the scale of the rooms and how you install them. Many of these spaces will be used in ways we can't predict. And there is so much heavy breathing about minimalist spaces. Art has got to have a context. Buildings have got to have a personality. I wasn't totally happy with it before, but now I think it's going to be a blockbuster.
"It's hard to remodel a building," Gehry continues. "I spent a lot of time fitting it into the city. Yeah, it would've been great to do something that wasn't encumbered like the AGO. It wasn't ideal. The idea here was to engage the city. When you go to the gallery, you're always looking back at the city."
And as of tomorrow, when the AGO finally reopens, the city will be looking back at us.
ART GALLERY OF ONTARIO: ARCHITECTURAL REVIEW
Revamped AGO a modest masterpiece
Architect doesn't seek to reinvent the art gallery, just perfect it
Nov 13, 2008
Christopher Hume
The Art Gallery of Ontario may not be one of Frank Gehry's biggest projects, but it is one of his best.
The scope of the scheme, a $276-million remake of the venerable institution, simply didn't give the architect the financial and physical wherewithal needed to produce the sort of monument that captures the world's attention and changes cities.
But what the world doesn't know won't go unnoticed – or unappreciated – here in Toronto. To put it simply, Gehry's revamped AGO is a masterpiece, but just as important, it is the easiest, most effortless and relaxed architectural masterpiece this city has seen.
Just as great virtuosi make playing a musical instrument look like something a kid could do, great architects have a way of making their works appear inevitable. There is simply no other way the gallery could have ended up; this is it. Or so we believe.
Nothing about the new AGO smacks of being arbitrary, eccentric or driven by vanity, the desire to shock, or, for that matter, please. This is a building that takes its every cue from the program; it is a place to view art.
That means displaying works in well-lit rooms with enough space to wander around as required. It also means designing an institutional building that can function as an intellectual, social and retail hub. As well as galleries, there must be the usual washrooms, restaurants, shops, offices, lobbies and theatres, the whole panoply of the 21st-century cultural centre.
Gehry has delivered brilliantly; to walk these new spaces is to see the work of a contemporary master, an architect completely comfortable in his own skin. There are no empty flourishes, no anxious moments, no embarrassing attempts to play to the audience; the building is defined from first to last by purpose and need.
Such restraint from one so celebrated runs counter to the spirit of the time. So let us all take a moment out of our busy day, bow our heads and quietly give thanks to Frank Gehry. This is a building that serves us, not him.
Comparisons are of limited use, but one can't help but think of the new AGO in light of Daniel Libeskind's controversial addition to the Royal Ontario Museum, the Michael Lee-Chin Crystal. For all its remarkable qualities, the Crystal doesn't serve the ROM so much as it presents an idea about architecture. It is the subject of its own drama.
By contrast, Gehry's AGO is a building about art, and the viewing thereof. It is also a building that addresses the city of which it forms part. Never before has the gallery felt so connected to its surroundings. This will be immediately evident to anyone who spends time in the Galleria Italia, which extends east/west along most of the front façade. This is the sculpture atrium that faces Dundas St. from behind the "visor."
No doubt it will one of the most popular spots in the new building, and a wonderful example of the architect's interest in context.
"I'm an egomaniac like all the others," Gehry once joked, "but I'm a Canadian egomaniac. Modesty is built into our lives. My buildings are inclusive. You respect what's next door, even when it doesn't look like what you want it to. If you just see pictures of the Bilbao Guggenheim, you think it's Martian or something, but I spent a lot of time fitting it into the city."
And it's true; the Guggenheim, for all its outlandishness, sits so well on its site that it's not just part of the city, it is the city. The museum is a microcosm of Bilbao, addressing the city, the Nervion River that flows through it, and even accommodating its transit system, which passes close by.
By contrast, the AGO is a more modest project. It doesn't seek to reinvent the art gallery, just perfect it. The changes, inside and out, are extensive, but the intention is to maximize display space, and provide a flow between them. The most dramatic of the new spaces are the contemporary galleries on the fourth and fifth floors. The addition means that important Canadian artists – General Idea, Michael Snow, Paterson Ewen and others – get a room of their own.
The floors are also connected by a striking spiral staircase that reaches out from the rear façade (clad in blue titanium) a full 11.5 metres. This isn't the result of some weird Toronto bylaw, though God knows there are enough. It's there as a gesture. It offers hitherto unseen views of the city, from the Ontario College of Art and Design's "flying tabletop" as far south as Lake Ontario. Though it will improve access between the two floors of contemporary art galleries, the real purpose is our pleasure.
This motif of the spiral reappears in two fire exits at the back and, most memorably, in an extended stairwell that snakes down from the top floor through the roof of Walker Court and out one of its large arched openings. It is an amazing piece, one that introduces something new while highlighting the old. Walker Court has been invaded, occupied, altered forever, but happily.
Speaking of Walker Court, it has been restored to its original position as the centre of the gallery. Gehry has moved the main entrance west along Dundas so that it lines up with the court. Look carefully, and you can see right through from the front door to the Grange at the back. A new mezzanine level has also been added to the Walker, all of which means it's harder than ever to get lost.
Gehry's curves also show up in the ramp area between the front door and the ticket counter. Called the Serpentine, it meanders around an opening that allows for views to the basement where Ken Thomson's extraordinary collection of model ships can be seen. (A quick prediction here: Forget art. The boats will fast become the AGO's most visited exhibit.)
Thomson, Toronto über-collector and reluctant philanthropist, deserves much of the credit for making the project happen. Not only did he donate his extensive art holdings, he anted up $90 million in cash. Some thought a family worth more than $20 billion might have given more, but until his death in June 2006, Thomson remained deeply committed to the project.
Of course, the 21st-century gallery must also tend to our needs to eat, shop and party. These facilities are accommodated seamlessly, clad in the same Douglas fir trim as the rest of the building.
One of the nicest touches, however, is one most will never notice. Look carefully at the Dundas façade, and you'll see the cables that support the streetcar wires are attached directly to the AGO. Although you'd think the city and the TTC would have been thrilled by the offer, getting permission wasn't easy. The result is that the usual City of Toronto standard-issue utility poles have been removed and this stretch of Dundas has never looked better.
"It's hard to do galleries," Gehry admits, "hard to get them right. It's about how you light the galleries, the scale of the rooms and how you install them. Many of these spaces will be used in ways we can't predict. And there is so much heavy breathing about minimalist spaces. Art has got to have a context. Buildings have got to have a personality. I wasn't totally happy with it before, but now I think it's going to be a blockbuster.
"It's hard to remodel a building," Gehry continues. "I spent a lot of time fitting it into the city. Yeah, it would've been great to do something that wasn't encumbered like the AGO. It wasn't ideal. The idea here was to engage the city. When you go to the gallery, you're always looking back at the city."
And as of tomorrow, when the AGO finally reopens, the city will be looking back at us.
ProjectEnd
Superstar
I do agree that the interior needs some serious TLC, and also that my love of the ROM's mismatched cladding is, perhaps, shared only by me, but I really do like the way it turned out. Would it change your mind if you found out that the 'tonal differences' in the ROM were intended? They weren't, obviously, but I do think that they only add to the striking nature of the building.
Urban Shocker
Doyenne
I doubt if the tonal differences in the AGO's titanium were intended - they're just less obvious than the ROM's cladding blunder.
You can pick apart just about anything if you're an obsessive-enough "quality finishes" queen - just look at the differences in the colour of the wood used in the Walker Court's spiral staircase, for instance ... tsk, tsk.
How's this?
AGO:
Gold star: Real pretty finishes throughout; transforming the Barton Myers addition; Galleria Italia; a new wing - and identity - for contemporary art; Walker Court revamp; much more stuff on display.
Red card: The Grange
Yellow card: The Tanenbaum Atrium
ROM:
Gold star: Bringing back the heritage galleries; innovative construction ( Crystal ); removing the Terrace Galleries, creating pedestrian flow between the heritage wings via the Crystal; sculptural spaces - the Spirit House and the Crystal north end; much more stuff on display.
Red card: Finishes ( Stair of Wonders ); transition points between heritage wings and Crystal.
The ROM has been busting a gut lately to recast itself as Toronto's "agora" or meeting place. It's an ambitious gambit. The AGO looks like they're doing much the same - opening up their institution to the public more than before.
http://www.chartattack.com/files/inline-images/urbantoronto/picoftheday_large.jpg?1226596613
You can pick apart just about anything if you're an obsessive-enough "quality finishes" queen - just look at the differences in the colour of the wood used in the Walker Court's spiral staircase, for instance ... tsk, tsk.
How's this?
AGO:
Gold star: Real pretty finishes throughout; transforming the Barton Myers addition; Galleria Italia; a new wing - and identity - for contemporary art; Walker Court revamp; much more stuff on display.
Red card: The Grange
Yellow card: The Tanenbaum Atrium
ROM:
Gold star: Bringing back the heritage galleries; innovative construction ( Crystal ); removing the Terrace Galleries, creating pedestrian flow between the heritage wings via the Crystal; sculptural spaces - the Spirit House and the Crystal north end; much more stuff on display.
Red card: Finishes ( Stair of Wonders ); transition points between heritage wings and Crystal.
The ROM has been busting a gut lately to recast itself as Toronto's "agora" or meeting place. It's an ambitious gambit. The AGO looks like they're doing much the same - opening up their institution to the public more than before.
http://www.chartattack.com/files/inline-images/urbantoronto/picoftheday_large.jpg?1226596613
adma
Superstar
I'm kinda circumspect about the Parkin-Gehry transition points at the AGO, too (even though last I saw, many of them were incomplete)
yyzer
Senior Member
well, today's the big day....lots of stuff in the Star today, including this video with Christopher Hume...
http://www.thestar.com/fpLarge/video/536569
http://www.thestar.com/fpLarge/video/536569
Ahab
New Member
I have to agree with this. I was very pleasantly surprised by the illustrations. One bonus of having gone to the previews was the access to the E.P. Taylor Research Library and Archives, which is generally not open to the public on weekends. They had quite a number of posters and other works on paper on display there that I think would rarely ever be displayed elsewhere in the gallery.
grey
Senior Member
Sam Javanrouh has posted some awesome wide angle AGO photos on his blog.
Hipster Duck
Senior Member
US, okay, when I see interior shots like this:
I can sleep a little easier.
The fit and finish of a building is immensely important to me. I agree that the heritage galleries, particularly the Chinese wing, were deftly handled, but the fire doors that I42 mentions, as well as the annoying floor grates (which seem to be the repository of a subway's worth of grime and gum if you look down) bring down the ambience of the ROM considerably. I actually prefer the more conservative modernist Toronto cultural additions (4SC, RCM, NBS) to the deconstructivist starchitecture offerings (OCAD, ROM), because more thought has been given to the durability and craftsmanship of the interiors of the former group.
I can sleep a little easier.
The fit and finish of a building is immensely important to me. I agree that the heritage galleries, particularly the Chinese wing, were deftly handled, but the fire doors that I42 mentions, as well as the annoying floor grates (which seem to be the repository of a subway's worth of grime and gum if you look down) bring down the ambience of the ROM considerably. I actually prefer the more conservative modernist Toronto cultural additions (4SC, RCM, NBS) to the deconstructivist starchitecture offerings (OCAD, ROM), because more thought has been given to the durability and craftsmanship of the interiors of the former group.
Urban Shocker
Doyenne
Oh, The Cheapening stalks them all, in their own way. For instance, take a look at the wood panelling of the coat check room next time you're in the Gardiner. Inspection of the hinge edge of the door shows that they've used veneer ( flooring, I assume ) rather than solid wood - you can see the supporting core. Not just for the door but for the whole coat check room, I think. There are a number of skilled local craftspeople who make custom-designed doors from solid wood, and would have been able to do matching panelling for the entire coat check room, had KPMB wanted it.
Urban Shocker
Doyenne
Concrete floors in the AGO's contemporary wing, and metal catwalks in the ROM's addition - Gehry and Libeskind use a different palette of materials to differentiate their new buildings from the old, creating a different "ambience" from the salons of the past.
Small children hang off the stainless steel Crystal chairs and try to climb the walls, but a lick of paint once a month can fix the walls and a sculptural building inevitably invites their involvement.
Small children hang off the stainless steel Crystal chairs and try to climb the walls, but a lick of paint once a month can fix the walls and a sculptural building inevitably invites their involvement.
MetroMan
Senior Member
Has anybody spotted Thorsell @ the AGO yet? I'm sure he can learn quite a bit from the quality of workmanship at the AGO. I have yet to find the kind of flaws found at the ROM's Crystal.
I love the ROM but many of it seems to have been rushed. Important spaces such as the Stair of Wonders seem to have been funded on remaining pocket change.
I love the ROM but many of it seems to have been rushed. Important spaces such as the Stair of Wonders seem to have been funded on remaining pocket change.
MetroMan
Senior Member
... Mind you, I don't think the AGO is as good as it could have been. One noticeable shortcoming is the glass roof over Walker Court.
The ceiling is calling out for something like this by Gehry:
The space is otherwise perfect with the rejuvenated historic walls and the spiral staircase and new gallery around the court.
The ceiling is calling out for something like this by Gehry:
The space is otherwise perfect with the rejuvenated historic walls and the spiral staircase and new gallery around the court.
billy corgan
Active Member
New York Times Review:
Gehry Puts a Very Different Signature on His Old Hometown’s Museum
By NICOLAI OUROUSSOFF
Published: November 14, 2008
TORONTO — Frank Gehry has often said that he likes to forge deep emotional bonds with his architecture projects. But the commission to renovate the Art Gallery of Ontario here must have been especially fraught for him. Mr. Gehry grew up on a windy, tree-lined street in a working-class neighborhood not far from the museum. His grandmother lived around the corner, where she kept live carp handy in the bathtub for making her gefilte fish.
Given that this is Mr. Gehry’s first commission in his native city, you might expect the building to be a surreal kind of self-reckoning, a voyage through the architect’s subconscious.
So the new Art Gallery of Ontario, which opened to the public on Friday, may catch some fans of the architect off guard. Rather than a tumultuous creation, this may be one of Mr. Gehry’s most gentle and self-possessed designs. It is not a perfect building, yet its billowing glass facade, which evokes a crystal ship drifting through the city, is a masterly example of how to breathe life into a staid old structure.
And its interiors underscore one of the most underrated dimensions of Mr. Gehry’s immense talent: a supple feel for context and an ability to balance exuberance with delicious moments of restraint.
Instead of tearing apart the old museum, Mr. Gehry carefully threaded new ramps, walkways and stairs through the original. As you step from one area to the next, it is as if you were engaging in a playful dance between old and new.
The original building, an imposing stone Beaux-Arts structure completed in 1918, grew in fits and starts over nearly a century. A wing designed to match the original style was added to the main building in the 1920s; a modern sculpture center and gallery shop, clad in precast concrete, were built in 1974.
The most damaging addition, however, was a two-story structure that the architect Barton Myers grafted onto the front of the old building on Dundas Street in the early 1990s. The addition’s low brick form was intended to make the museum more accessible but ended up looking cheap and tawdry. The central entrance was also moved off to one side, which meant that visitors had to pass through a labyrinth of spaces before reaching the heart of the museum.
Mr. Gehry’s first task was to clean up this mess. He tore away that addition, restoring a grand, central point of entry. He consolidated all of the museum’s commercial functions — bookstore, cafe, restaurant, theater — at one end of the building, reasserting the primacy of the museum and its art while creating a vibrant communal enclave at that street corner.
The new glass facade, swelling out one story above the sidewalk, seems to wrap the building and embrace passers-by below. Its faceted glass panels, supported by rows of curved wood beams, evoke the skeleton of a ship’s hull or the ribs of a corset. At either end of the building, the glass peels back to reveal powerful crisscrossing steel and wood structural beams.
The unpretentious materials bring to mind one of Mr. Gehry’s most powerful early works: his own 1978 house in Santa Monica, Calif., which he described as “a dumb box†wrapped in a skin of chain link, galvanized metal and plywood.
Yet an even greater strength of the museum design is how it suggests the interrelationship of art and the city. The bottom portion of the glass overhanging the street angles back slightly to reflect the facades of the pretty Victorian and Georgian houses across the way; the upper section tilts back to reflect the sky. Just above the glass facade, you glimpse the top of the new big, blue box that houses the contemporary-art galleries, its blocky form balanced on top of the old building.
The results are refreshing. Mr. Gehry doesn’t put art on a pedestal; he asserts its importance while wedding it to everyday life. The rest of the design unfolds in a meandering, almost childlike narrative. An exposed stud wall frames the entrance, blending into the classical stone shell while adding a touch of warmth. From here, a long sinuous ramp snakes its way through the center of the lobby. The ramp, which provides wheelchair access but can be used by anyone, is an odd conceit. Yet it serves the purpose of slowing your pace as you move toward the galleries, prodding you to leave outside distractions behind.
As you travel deeper into the building, you experience a delightful tension between old and new. From the lobby you enter a court framed on four sides by the original museum’s classical arcades. A glass roof supported on steel trusses has been cleaned up, and on a sunny day a heavenly light pours into the space from two stories above.
At the far end of the court, a spectacular new spiraling wood staircase rises from the second floor, punching through the glass roof and connecting to the contemporary gallery floors in the rear of the building. The staircase leans drunkenly to one side as it rises, and the tilt of the form sets the whole room in motion. When you reach the first landing, the stair rail keeps rising rather than becoming level with the floor, so that your view back across the court temporarily disappears and then returns. It’s as if you were riding a wave.
This is a textbook example of how architecture can be respectful of the past without being docile. All the old spaces and the memories they house are brought lovingly back to life.
Mr. Gehry shows the most restraint in the galleries. Some have been left completely untouched, and others, like the Thomson Canadian gallery, have been subtly tweaked. Big wooden baseboards have been added to keep the eye upward, focused on the art. Doors are cut into the corners of some of the galleries so that you enter them diagonally, which preserves wall space. (One flaw is a series of rails at waist level that were designed to allow you to lean to view smaller paintings; they cast a distracting shadow on the wall, and the effect is fussy.)
Mr. Gehry seems to have had more fun with the contemporary galleries. Big wood-frame windows offer views onto the park at the back, and skylights funnel sunlight into the upper-floor spaces. The galleries are conceived as big white cubes with a few smaller, boxy spaces arranged inside, shifts in scale that give curators more display choices. They also add an element of surprise: you’re not always sure what to expect when you round a corner.
The climax arrives in the Gallery Italia, a long, narrow sculpture corridor just behind the new glass facade. The entire composition snaps into place. The facade’s gorgeous curved surface cleaves you close to the old building. Gazing toward the ends of the hall, where the glass curls over and then peels back, you think of the gills of a fish opening up to let in air.
As you watch the figures jostling outside and then turn to the sculptures, urban life and art seem in perfect balance.
And suddenly you grasp what’s so moving about this place, despite its flaws. The exuberance is here, of course. But something else tugs at you: the architect’s humility in addressing the past.
Gehry Puts a Very Different Signature on His Old Hometown’s Museum
By NICOLAI OUROUSSOFF
Published: November 14, 2008
TORONTO — Frank Gehry has often said that he likes to forge deep emotional bonds with his architecture projects. But the commission to renovate the Art Gallery of Ontario here must have been especially fraught for him. Mr. Gehry grew up on a windy, tree-lined street in a working-class neighborhood not far from the museum. His grandmother lived around the corner, where she kept live carp handy in the bathtub for making her gefilte fish.
Given that this is Mr. Gehry’s first commission in his native city, you might expect the building to be a surreal kind of self-reckoning, a voyage through the architect’s subconscious.
So the new Art Gallery of Ontario, which opened to the public on Friday, may catch some fans of the architect off guard. Rather than a tumultuous creation, this may be one of Mr. Gehry’s most gentle and self-possessed designs. It is not a perfect building, yet its billowing glass facade, which evokes a crystal ship drifting through the city, is a masterly example of how to breathe life into a staid old structure.
And its interiors underscore one of the most underrated dimensions of Mr. Gehry’s immense talent: a supple feel for context and an ability to balance exuberance with delicious moments of restraint.
Instead of tearing apart the old museum, Mr. Gehry carefully threaded new ramps, walkways and stairs through the original. As you step from one area to the next, it is as if you were engaging in a playful dance between old and new.
The original building, an imposing stone Beaux-Arts structure completed in 1918, grew in fits and starts over nearly a century. A wing designed to match the original style was added to the main building in the 1920s; a modern sculpture center and gallery shop, clad in precast concrete, were built in 1974.
The most damaging addition, however, was a two-story structure that the architect Barton Myers grafted onto the front of the old building on Dundas Street in the early 1990s. The addition’s low brick form was intended to make the museum more accessible but ended up looking cheap and tawdry. The central entrance was also moved off to one side, which meant that visitors had to pass through a labyrinth of spaces before reaching the heart of the museum.
Mr. Gehry’s first task was to clean up this mess. He tore away that addition, restoring a grand, central point of entry. He consolidated all of the museum’s commercial functions — bookstore, cafe, restaurant, theater — at one end of the building, reasserting the primacy of the museum and its art while creating a vibrant communal enclave at that street corner.
The new glass facade, swelling out one story above the sidewalk, seems to wrap the building and embrace passers-by below. Its faceted glass panels, supported by rows of curved wood beams, evoke the skeleton of a ship’s hull or the ribs of a corset. At either end of the building, the glass peels back to reveal powerful crisscrossing steel and wood structural beams.
The unpretentious materials bring to mind one of Mr. Gehry’s most powerful early works: his own 1978 house in Santa Monica, Calif., which he described as “a dumb box†wrapped in a skin of chain link, galvanized metal and plywood.
Yet an even greater strength of the museum design is how it suggests the interrelationship of art and the city. The bottom portion of the glass overhanging the street angles back slightly to reflect the facades of the pretty Victorian and Georgian houses across the way; the upper section tilts back to reflect the sky. Just above the glass facade, you glimpse the top of the new big, blue box that houses the contemporary-art galleries, its blocky form balanced on top of the old building.
The results are refreshing. Mr. Gehry doesn’t put art on a pedestal; he asserts its importance while wedding it to everyday life. The rest of the design unfolds in a meandering, almost childlike narrative. An exposed stud wall frames the entrance, blending into the classical stone shell while adding a touch of warmth. From here, a long sinuous ramp snakes its way through the center of the lobby. The ramp, which provides wheelchair access but can be used by anyone, is an odd conceit. Yet it serves the purpose of slowing your pace as you move toward the galleries, prodding you to leave outside distractions behind.
As you travel deeper into the building, you experience a delightful tension between old and new. From the lobby you enter a court framed on four sides by the original museum’s classical arcades. A glass roof supported on steel trusses has been cleaned up, and on a sunny day a heavenly light pours into the space from two stories above.
At the far end of the court, a spectacular new spiraling wood staircase rises from the second floor, punching through the glass roof and connecting to the contemporary gallery floors in the rear of the building. The staircase leans drunkenly to one side as it rises, and the tilt of the form sets the whole room in motion. When you reach the first landing, the stair rail keeps rising rather than becoming level with the floor, so that your view back across the court temporarily disappears and then returns. It’s as if you were riding a wave.
This is a textbook example of how architecture can be respectful of the past without being docile. All the old spaces and the memories they house are brought lovingly back to life.
Mr. Gehry shows the most restraint in the galleries. Some have been left completely untouched, and others, like the Thomson Canadian gallery, have been subtly tweaked. Big wooden baseboards have been added to keep the eye upward, focused on the art. Doors are cut into the corners of some of the galleries so that you enter them diagonally, which preserves wall space. (One flaw is a series of rails at waist level that were designed to allow you to lean to view smaller paintings; they cast a distracting shadow on the wall, and the effect is fussy.)
Mr. Gehry seems to have had more fun with the contemporary galleries. Big wood-frame windows offer views onto the park at the back, and skylights funnel sunlight into the upper-floor spaces. The galleries are conceived as big white cubes with a few smaller, boxy spaces arranged inside, shifts in scale that give curators more display choices. They also add an element of surprise: you’re not always sure what to expect when you round a corner.
The climax arrives in the Gallery Italia, a long, narrow sculpture corridor just behind the new glass facade. The entire composition snaps into place. The facade’s gorgeous curved surface cleaves you close to the old building. Gazing toward the ends of the hall, where the glass curls over and then peels back, you think of the gills of a fish opening up to let in air.
As you watch the figures jostling outside and then turn to the sculptures, urban life and art seem in perfect balance.
And suddenly you grasp what’s so moving about this place, despite its flaws. The exuberance is here, of course. But something else tugs at you: the architect’s humility in addressing the past.