The construction of Brasilia, the much-maligned capital city of Brazil, represents an
important and cathartic moment in the history of modern architecture and the
International Style. As well as becoming a national emblem for the geographically
disparate country, Brasilia has also become, in more recent times, a symbol for some of
the perceived shortcomings of the modernist movement. Bringing together many of the
European ideals that had accompanied the Utopian urban plans of the postwar years,
Brasilia necessitated the deployment of monumental architecture on a scale almost
unprecedented in the 20th century. The emphasis on establishing a new cultural identity
for the South American power was interwoven with the global architectural language of
Oscar Niemeyer and the Le Corbusian-inspired planning of his mentor Lúcio Costa. The
optimistic proposal was to be realized within an incredibly short construction period and
in the wake of enormous political pressure.
The decision to relocate the Brazilian capital from Rio de Janeiro to Brasilia in the
isolated interior of the country was set against a backdrop of domestic instability and
individual ambition. In 1955 Juscelino Kubitschek had been elected president of Brazil
by a slender margin and without a party majority. The decision to build a new capital was
motivated by the need to consolidate the support of a marginal electorate as well as the
need to project Brazil into the technological age. The geography of the country had
dictated much of the political and economic structure of Brazil, concentrating most of the
population and industry along the scenic Atlantic coast that housed most of Brazil’s
major cities. An inland capital was intended to not only symbolically relocate the seat of
national power but also shift the demographic and economic focus away from the
European colonial powers and toward the vast domestic hinterland. This was part of
Kubitschek’s nationwide industrialization process that sought to rapidly develop rural and
remote regions of Brazil and bring egalitarian prosperity to the emerging country. The
new capital was to be a symbol for this modernization, establishing a new national
identity and offering the opportunity to reform the convoluted bureaucracy of the old
capital in Rio.
The fact that Kubitschek was limited to a single five-year term in office necessitated
that the epic project be realized within this period. The vast scale and enormous technical
impediments to the project meant that the preliminary design of the city had to be
undertaken with speed and efficiency. Brazil’s most internationally renowned architect,
Oscar Niemeyer, who had previously worked with Kubitschek, was appointed to direct
the works and given complete control over the design and construction process. On 16
March 1957, Niemeyer announced a national competition for the master plan of the new
capital and, as an important member of the jury, was instrumental in awarding the
Entries A–F 299
winning scheme to Lúcio Costa (his teacher and former employer). Niemeyer was to be
the architect for the buildings extending a long period of successful collaboration
between the two men. Construction was begun in 1957 and the new capital city was
inaugurated on schedule on 21 April 1960.
Costa’s plan for the city was hinged around the intersection of two monumental axes,
marking Brasilia as the symbolic and geographic center of Brazil. The characteristic
arrangement houses the three branches of government—legislative, executive, and
judicial—along a lineal central axis that Costa calls the Plaza of the Three Powers. From
here, two wings radiate in either direction, housing the ministry buildings and embassies,
giving the plan a diagrammatic relationship to a modern aircraft. This cruciform plan was
an important symbol aligning the new capital not only with more traditional Catholic
typology but also with the pervasive imagery of modernism, progress, and flight. Unlike
the congested streets of Brazil’s coastal metropolises, the new capital was serviced by
broad, expansive highways that celebrated automation and the technological convenience
of the modern age.
Costa had followed Le Corbusier’s Ville Radieuse (Radial City) (partially,
implemented at Chandigarh) by isolating the political and administrative centers of the
new capital from the housing and recreational facilities, which radiated out from the
circumference of this new monolithic center. However, it was the imposing architectural
composition of Niemeyer that most clearly reiterated the formal principles of Le
Corbusian modernism. The language of Niemeyer’s grandiose structures betrayed a
profound allegiance to Le Corbusier and, in particular, his work at Chandigarh.
Niemeyer, in reverence to the Punjab capital, implemented a simple but elegant
geometric language to articulate the colossal monuments of Costa’s plan. The austerity of
this new architectural entourage, like many modernist projects, attempted a synthesis
between an idealistic social vision and pure geometric form. The attenuated scale of the
buildings deployed in the capital worked with the master plan to facilitate a
characteristically modernist reunification between architecture, nature, and the individual.
The Plaza of the Three Powers represents the political and architectural epicenter for
the new capital. The elegant Palácio de Planalto (Highland Palace) became the new seat
for Brazil’s government, housed within a single structure running parallel to the plaza.
Giant, curved concrete pilasters articulate the exterior of the building, allowing the roof
and floors to float gracefully above the ground. Opposite the palace and separated by a
broad public space is the Supreme Court, which employs a similar language of forms to
the palace with the strong rhythm of sculptural pilasters that dominates the elevation. In
the vast space between these two buildings, along the center of the axis, is the Museum of
the City of Brasilia, characterized by a dramatic horizontal cantilever that memorializes
the construction of the city. A large bust of Kubitschek faces back toward the palace,
unmistakably commemorating the president responsible.
The central axis is also the site of several important cultural buildings including the
National Theatre and the sculptural Metropolitan Chapel. The chapel, in particular, is an
important structure subtly demarcating the roles of politics and religion within Costa’s
plan for a Utopian urbanism. The poetic conical structure is formed by 16 bent concrete
pilasters opening out at the top to form a crown. Between the concrete supports is a
mosaic of colored glass (redesigned in 1970 by Marianne Peretti) transmitting a powerful
spirituality to the internal space. This is heightened by the entry procedure, which takes
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 300
visitors underground before depositing them dramatically in the center of the internalized
crystal chamber. The National Theatre also makes use of a pyramidal form elegantly
housing two theaters within a terraced subterranean crater.
The end of the Plaza of the Three Powers is punctuated by the third major
administrative building—the authoritative residence of the Congress. This colossal
structure dominates the surrounding landscape with two slender concrete towers on a
broad horizontal plinth. The two bodies of congress (the House of Deputies and the
Senate) are expressed by two enormous parabolic dishes, one inverted, that are located on
either side of the two towers above the podium. The circular form of the dishes allows a
seductive interior layout for the two legislative bodies, distributing, rather than focusing,
power.
The playful composition of the Congress, set against the expansive public spaces of
the plaza, marks the hierarchical apex of the axis forming a hinging point in the whole
design. Costa’s plan is reminiscent of the principles of the colonial baroque architecture
(evident in many coastal cities of Brazil) that established primary and secondary
functional corridors. Architecturally, Neimeyer established this hierarchy through the use
of form and finish to distinguish between the sacred Plaza of the Three Powers and the
secondary administrative axis that bisects it. The various ministries that make up the two
curved wings of the plan are accommodated within undistinguished Cartesian office
blocks, less elaborate than the parliamentary buildings in both form and execution.
Recent writers have applied a more critical eye to Brasilia and observed that
Niemeyer’s structures unwillingly enforced a cultural hierarchy by allocating expensive
finishes and detailing to the institutional structures and neglecting the sites of work and
leisure. Unlike the rough Brutalism of Chandigarh, which was uncompromising in its
rough-cast concrete finish, many of the significant buildings of Brasilia are finished with
luxurious yet cosmetic surfaces like marble, metal, and mirrored panels. The most
pronounced contrast with this, and the subject of many contemporary critiques of the city,
is embodied in the sprawling housing sectors that surround the capital and quickly
became the scene of crime, poverty, and disease. As a result, Brasilia became a city of
transit for politicians who generally resided in Rio de Janeiro and visited the capital only
intermittently. The residents of the city, many of whom had been instrumental in its
construction, were relegated to ramshackle favelas enveloping the periphery of the city.
This divisive relationship between the center and the periphery seemingly enforces a rigid
social stratification between the monumental majesty of the governing elite and the
working-class squatters, betraying the egalitarian rhetoric that initially inspired the
construction of the new capital.
Nowhere is the decadent luxury of Brasilia more evident than in the lavish presidential
palace, which exists on an isolated site apart from the other institutional buildings.
Known as the Alvarado Palace, the expansive residence was the first building completed
at Brasilia and remains one of the most recognizable and influential of Niemeyer’s
buildings. It quickly became the architectural symbol of the new capital. The palace
employs a similar language to the Federal Government and Supreme Court monuments,
dominated by an inverted arched colonnade that sinks gracefully into a pristine reflecting
pond. The palace incorporates a private chapel, signaling the seamless influence of the
Catholic Church on the affairs of state. Located at the side of the imposing palace, the
plan of the chapel is based on a sweeping spiral that, like the plastic forms of Le
Entries A–F 301
Corbusier’s Ronchamp, leads the visitor from the sculptural whitewashed exterior toward
a discreet and contemplative altar. The geographic and spiritual isolation of the residence,
as well as its imposing scale, further elaborates the social stratification intrinsic to the
program of the new Capital.
Only four years after the city’s completion, Brazil was the victim of a military coup
that instantaneously reversed the democratic and egalitarian principles that had initially
inspired the construction of the new capital. The next 20 years within the country were
characterized by a turbulent political landscape that ultimately led Niemeyer to live in
exile in Europe for several years. Despite this, Niemeyer, although occasionally
distancing himself from the design of the city, continued his association with the capital
under the new regime, finishing the construction of several important buildings, including
the Ministry of Justice. Significantly, in 1980 Niemeyer proposed a monument to
commemorate the death of Juscelino Kubitschek, who had been the political and spiritual
force behind the new city. The monument, whose form is reminiscent of the hammer and
sickle, houses the tomb of the former president in a serene underground chamber.
However, possibly the most elegant and graceful of all of the buildings at Brasilia is
the Pantheon of Liberty and Democracy, completed in 1987 in memory of Tancredo
Neves. The poetic reinforced concrete sails of the pyre now enclose the southern end of
the Plaza of the Three Powers, juxtaposed against the robust silhouette of the congress
building at the northern end. The expressive structure subtly completes the urban
composition, complementing the formal austerity of the earlier monumental structures
with contemporary images of peace and harmony.
Despite failing in its intention to create a more egalitarian society through pure
architectural expression, the city of Brasilia remains a powerful urban gesture, layered
with symbolism of form and meaning deployed across a rich architectural tapestry. The
dominant scenography, rigid geometric planning, and uniform aesthetic language
effectively unite the diverse political, social, and artistic forces of the turbulent South
American nation, forming a capital that is as inspirational as it is imperfect. The elegant
poetry, epic scale, and often-naïfe socialism embodied in the monumental forms provide
an important commentary on both the best and worst aspects of the Modern movement.
Mario Botta
Architect, Switzerland
Mario Botta gained architectural fame during the early 1970s when he began
designing small houses in the Ticino region of Switzerland.
Botta completed an apprenticeship with Tita Carloni and architectural studies in Milan
and Venice, prior to opening his own office in 1969. The houses he designed during the
early 1970s established the Ticino school and changed Swiss architec-ture dramatically.
It is largely because of Botta’s innovative work that the present generation of Swiss
architects is internationally acclaimed.
During the 1970s and early 1980s, the Ticino region changed from a primarily
agricultural economy, to an industrial one that emphasizes tourism. The primary cause of
this change was the integration of this region into the European highway system at the
beginning of the 1960s. Most of the Ticino architects built for the wealthy bourgeoisie
who profited from the economic change, and Botta’s first commissions came either from
clients to whom he was recommended by his mentor Carloni, or from his relatives. In
addition, he participated in competitions, either alone or with older colleagues, such as
Luigi Snozzi, Carloni, and Aurelio Galfetti.
The Ticino school generates its designs from architectural and contextual
requirements. Architecturally, the buildings exhibit their materials and construction
openly. Simple forms characterize typical examples, with a focus on mass and contour
line, and ornamentation derived from structure and construction technology.
Contextually, these designs attempt to relate the old to the new. The old comes from
architectural typology and the vernacular traditions, and the new stems from building
technology. In addition, these architects intend to express a mythical topography of the
Ticino region, or what is termed the natural calling of the site. This architecture attempts
to continue the trends (tendenza) already apparent in the organization of the land, and to realize
them in an architecture conceived as an act of culture, which incorporates geometry and
history.
For Botta, the dignity of architecture results not from intuition, but from architecture’s
own rules and from history. He proposes that history is the place where architecture finds
and defines its meaning. Form and meaning are determined through the relationship to
historical buildings, especially the local Romanesque and baroque churches. New
meanings can be derived only from these familiar themes, and it is only secondarily that
Entries A–F 295
meaning is created through sociocultural usage. Botta’s designs aim to contrast physical,
social, and cultural traditions to the transient phenomena of modern life.
Botta began in the 1960s, with designs that were inspired by the postwar
work of his idols: Le Corbusier and Louis Kahn. During the 1970s, he
transformed his theories into buildings that had a strong formal quality.
The Bianchi House (1973) in Riva San Vitale is a mysterious, isolated
tower that stands up to the surrounding mountains. It is defined by corner
supports and a roof slab, and allows outside views by increasing the
opening of the construction shell as it rises. The confrontational position
of the house to its site emerges in the entrance bridge, which articulates the detachment between natural and man-made, resulting in stark, bizarre
forms.
Botta’s buildings impress through their strong image quality, which might be
interpreted as cultural resistance intent on a new order and meaning. The houses are
devoid of clustered compositions or extensions. The massive exterior walls establish a
sharp datum. Through such devices, the Casa Rotonda (1981) in Stabio establishes an
unexpected presence within an anonymous context. The building is derived from
geometric form. The seemingly impenetrable, cylindrical shape contrasts with the large
cuts in its surface and suggests an opposition between fortification and openness. The
Casa Rotonda questions our assumptions concerning the nature of dwellings;
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 296
conventional or traditional elements are eliminated. Moreover, everything is subordinated
to form. The interior is laid out symmetrically around the central slot of the stairwell and
skylight, and rooms are irregular, leftover spaces resulting from inserting a rectangular
grid into the house’s cylinder.
In larger designs, the geometrical forms became megastructures. The Middle School
(1977) in Morbio Inferiore, uses a bridge typology for the arrangement of its eight
classroom clusters. The complex is an orderly architectural composition with openings,
covered areas, porticoes, and passages. Modular units are repeated to generate the overall
shape, and to make the organizational structure of the building easily apparent. A
spatially diverse, skylit central passage creates a rich variety of spaces inside this simple
form.
In the State Bank (1982) in Fribourg, Botta managed to fit his building into an existing
urban situation. A protruding cylindrical volume dominates a public square, and turns the
corner while the two receding wings relate to the rhythm and scale of the buildings on the
flanking streets. Botta used this approach of dividing a large building into different
shapes and facade articulations frequently during the 1980s.
In the late 1980s, the images of the facades became dominant in Botta’s buildings;
they became figures in which typical details from his earlier designs were re-used. In his
Union Bank (1995) in Basel, the facade, curved toward the square, impresses as a heavy
bastion. It opens into a cavity that is partly filled by a massive pier on a broad base.
Although such shapes are appropriate for a bank building, they become disturbing when
used for other building types. The large cubical forms used for the Housing Complex
(1982) in Novazzano appear to be without scale and meaningless, because they are not
finished in Botta’s traditional brick veneer. The absence of this craft surface reveals the
emptiness of these forms.
A disappointing aspect of Botta’s architecture is that most of his buildings seem to
embody the same vision. Now, his repetitive cylinders have appeared in all parts of the
world for the most diverse functions, such as museums, churches, single-family homes,
shopping centers, and office buildings, as well as in his furniture designs and household
appliances.
Mario Botta gained architectural fame during the early 1970s when he began
designing small houses in the Ticino region of Switzerland.
Botta completed an apprenticeship with Tita Carloni and architectural studies in Milan
and Venice, prior to opening his own office in 1969. The houses he designed during the
early 1970s established the Ticino school and changed Swiss architec-ture dramatically.
It is largely because of Botta’s innovative work that the present generation of Swiss
architects is internationally acclaimed.
During the 1970s and early 1980s, the Ticino region changed from a primarily
agricultural economy, to an industrial one that emphasizes tourism. The primary cause of
this change was the integration of this region into the European highway system at the
beginning of the 1960s. Most of the Ticino architects built for the wealthy bourgeoisie
who profited from the economic change, and Botta’s first commissions came either from
clients to whom he was recommended by his mentor Carloni, or from his relatives. In
addition, he participated in competitions, either alone or with older colleagues, such as
Luigi Snozzi, Carloni, and Aurelio Galfetti.
The Ticino school generates its designs from architectural and contextual
requirements. Architecturally, the buildings exhibit their materials and construction
openly. Simple forms characterize typical examples, with a focus on mass and contour
line, and ornamentation derived from structure and construction technology.
Contextually, these designs attempt to relate the old to the new. The old comes from
architectural typology and the vernacular traditions, and the new stems from building
technology. In addition, these architects intend to express a mythical topography of the
Ticino region, or what is termed the natural calling of the site. This architecture attempts
to continue the trends (tendenza) already apparent in the organization of the land, and to realize
them in an architecture conceived as an act of culture, which incorporates geometry and
history.
For Botta, the dignity of architecture results not from intuition, but from architecture’s
own rules and from history. He proposes that history is the place where architecture finds
and defines its meaning. Form and meaning are determined through the relationship to
historical buildings, especially the local Romanesque and baroque churches. New
meanings can be derived only from these familiar themes, and it is only secondarily that
Entries A–F 295
meaning is created through sociocultural usage. Botta’s designs aim to contrast physical,
social, and cultural traditions to the transient phenomena of modern life.
Botta began in the 1960s, with designs that were inspired by the postwar
work of his idols: Le Corbusier and Louis Kahn. During the 1970s, he
transformed his theories into buildings that had a strong formal quality.
The Bianchi House (1973) in Riva San Vitale is a mysterious, isolated
tower that stands up to the surrounding mountains. It is defined by corner
supports and a roof slab, and allows outside views by increasing the
opening of the construction shell as it rises. The confrontational position
of the house to its site emerges in the entrance bridge, which articulates the detachment between natural and man-made, resulting in stark, bizarre
forms.
Botta’s buildings impress through their strong image quality, which might be
interpreted as cultural resistance intent on a new order and meaning. The houses are
devoid of clustered compositions or extensions. The massive exterior walls establish a
sharp datum. Through such devices, the Casa Rotonda (1981) in Stabio establishes an
unexpected presence within an anonymous context. The building is derived from
geometric form. The seemingly impenetrable, cylindrical shape contrasts with the large
cuts in its surface and suggests an opposition between fortification and openness. The
Casa Rotonda questions our assumptions concerning the nature of dwellings;
Encyclopedia of 20th-century architecture 296
conventional or traditional elements are eliminated. Moreover, everything is subordinated
to form. The interior is laid out symmetrically around the central slot of the stairwell and
skylight, and rooms are irregular, leftover spaces resulting from inserting a rectangular
grid into the house’s cylinder.
In larger designs, the geometrical forms became megastructures. The Middle School
(1977) in Morbio Inferiore, uses a bridge typology for the arrangement of its eight
classroom clusters. The complex is an orderly architectural composition with openings,
covered areas, porticoes, and passages. Modular units are repeated to generate the overall
shape, and to make the organizational structure of the building easily apparent. A
spatially diverse, skylit central passage creates a rich variety of spaces inside this simple
form.
In the State Bank (1982) in Fribourg, Botta managed to fit his building into an existing
urban situation. A protruding cylindrical volume dominates a public square, and turns the
corner while the two receding wings relate to the rhythm and scale of the buildings on the
flanking streets. Botta used this approach of dividing a large building into different
shapes and facade articulations frequently during the 1980s.
In the late 1980s, the images of the facades became dominant in Botta’s buildings;
they became figures in which typical details from his earlier designs were re-used. In his
Union Bank (1995) in Basel, the facade, curved toward the square, impresses as a heavy
bastion. It opens into a cavity that is partly filled by a massive pier on a broad base.
Although such shapes are appropriate for a bank building, they become disturbing when
used for other building types. The large cubical forms used for the Housing Complex
(1982) in Novazzano appear to be without scale and meaningless, because they are not
finished in Botta’s traditional brick veneer. The absence of this craft surface reveals the
emptiness of these forms.
A disappointing aspect of Botta’s architecture is that most of his buildings seem to
embody the same vision. Now, his repetitive cylinders have appeared in all parts of the
world for the most diverse functions, such as museums, churches, single-family homes,
shopping centers, and office buildings, as well as in his furniture designs and household
appliances.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)