Narrative of Eurocentrism. The time setting “1914 – 2014” does not fit for all countries. Harald Trapp and Christian Kühn, curators of the Austrian Pavilion, take the temporary perspective a step further. The theme: Parliaments
Baumeister: In January, “die Presse” published a special edition entitled “1914-2014”, which provided a historical overview of this period in Austria. “Absorbing Modernity: 1914-2014” is the title of this year’s Biennale. What does this mean for the concept of the Austrian Pavilion?
Christian Kühn: We wanted to deal with parliamentary architecture right from the start. We had an internal working title for this: “Absorbing Democracy: 1814-2014”, as we are of the opinion that 1914 is not a good time to start a history of democracy. The Congress of Vienna in 1814 was, in a sense, the zero point from which democratic development in Europe began again after the rise of absolutism. The bourgeois revolution of 1848 was the first milestone, accompanied by the idea of the strengthening of the nation state, the redivision of Europe in 1871, the catastrophes of the First and Second World Wars and the final victory of democracy, which brought lasting peace to Europe. This is, of course, a Eurocentric construction, one of the last great narratives left to the West.
B: And what does the global perspective mean?
C K: In dealing with the parliaments of the world – and thus a global perspective – we have seen that completely different narratives are relevant in other regions. In Africa, for example, the establishment of parliaments is associated with the end of colonialism, with liberation and the creation of a constitution, and finally with the construction of a building. Although this is a narrative of its own, most of these parliaments refer architecturally to the European tradition. And sometimes with strange appearances, such as the parliament of North Korea, which bears a striking resemblance to the parliament of Finland, both in the style of classicism. In North Korea, however, there is only one session per year. If a dictatorship obviously feels comfortable in such a classicist building, the question must be asked: How much hie-rarchic, absolutist and even dictatorial is there in this type of architecture, which was decisive for around two thirds of parliamentary buildings in the world, even in the major democracies? This cannot be explained purely in terms of architectural history: After all, most of them were built after 1950.
B: The reversal of political hierarchies as a result of social change also calls for new spatial structures in which democracy can be reinterpreted. Is power architecture still relevant?
C K: Today, power is more visible in the large mass movements in public space. There is still enthusiasm for politics there. In Cairo on Tahrir Square, two million people were on the move to represent their political will. These enormous masses of people were only able to organize themselves for a long time via new media such as Facebook and Twitter. New physical structures would be needed for the distribution of power, which otherwise takes place behind the scenes and not in public space.
B: Do you plan to give these movements, which also represent the political will of the people, a space in events?
C K: We are planning a series of discussion events in the pavilion in cooperation with the Italian architecture magazine “San Rocco”. Among other things, we will invite speakers from Tirana to discuss Coop Himmelb(l)au’s designs for the Albanian parliament. The full program will not be known until the opening.
B: What does the concept of a national pavilion still mean today?
C K: The national pavilions in Venice must be seen as a bizarre experimental arrangement. An artificial boundary is drawn, which in the end turns out to be unproductive if you want to clarify something. In architecture, I think the regional boundary is even more productive and then, of course, the global trends. Our exhibition is also an ironic statement in that a national pavilion represents all the other nations with their parliaments. You can see what happens when the political class of a country wants to realize something very special. Architecturally, this rarely results in anything particularly good. Oscar Niemeyer’s parliament in Brasilia and Louis Kahn’s parliament for Bangladesh in Dhaka are among the few exceptions.
B: When constructing parliament buildings, isn’t it problematic to formulate the lowest common denominator visually?
C K: That is probably also a motive for the many classicist parliaments: a language that everyone thinks they understand. In Austria, we also have a classicist parliament, and the last attempt to renovate the plenary chamber, a rather elegant achievement from the 1950s, was also unable to opt for a radical solution. Even the smallest changes, such as the installation of two lecterns that would allow speeches and counter-speeches, could not be implemented without a constitutional amendment. This inertia has a purpose, of course, but if it goes too far, trust in the institution diminishes.
B: How do you resolve the national aspect in your exhibition?
C K: Our exhibition could also be seen as a glorification of the nation state. That is why we have endeavored to present these monumental buildings in an unmistakably precarious position, because they can no longer solve the larger world problems individually, but only in a supranational structure. They normally stand firmly on the ground, representing a world axis and a center around which the nation rallies. Now they hang rather pale and tilted at 90 degrees on the wall. There is brief basic information about the models directly on the wall, as well as a pocket catalog with additional information, which is displayed in the room. An issue of the magazine for architectural theory “UmBau” is also being published to accompany the exhibition, in which we have asked authors from various disciplines to address the role of architecture in representative democracies.