This is not easy for me. After all, I run the risk of becoming a spoilsport with this text. The Pritzker Prize has been awarded. And again for surprising and generally unknown prizewinners. For architects who above all represent a specific idea. This time it’s about teamwork and the integration of architecture and landscape. No doubt about it: the […]
This is not easy for me. After all, I run the risk of becoming a spoilsport with this text. The Pritzker Prize has been awarded. And again for surprising and generally unknown prizewinners. For architects who above all represent a specific idea. This time it’s about teamwork and the integration of architecture and landscape.
There is no doubt that the architects from RCR are an interesting office. One that has previously attracted attention with regionally renowned buildings in southern Europe. “Integrating architecture into nature” is the motto that Rafael Aranda, Carme Pigem and Ramon Vilalta recently shared in an interview with Baumeister.
All this is good and worth discussing. But does it justify the Pritzker Prize? What is the function of this prize? That is the really exciting question. If the jury is interested in emphasizing a particular facet of architectural creation, then the decision is understandable. If, for example, the main aim is to emphasize the value of contemplating the landscape and working with materials, then the award makes sense. And if the focus is on architectural practice as a team effort, then it is logical to award the prize not to a single hero, but to a collaboration of three equal architects.
But is that enough? The jurors then act like the editors of architecture magazines. Like us at Baumeister, which we presented in our February issue of RCR in our “Minds” section. Those responsible at Pritzker generate politically explainable decisions. And they want to surprise. Both are worthy of honor and, of course, popular. Especially in times when every second-semester architecture student can (and does) recite the truism about the “end of the star architects”. But both could, in the long term, deprive the prize of its role as a signpost. A “Nobel Prize for Architecture” works differently. It does not reward ideas that may be meaningful or important, but also recognizes a real influence. It honors those whose (conceptual and practical) work has already decisively shaped our architectural present, the discourse as well as the practice. And RCR, for all its sympathy for the firm’s architectural approaches, cannot say that about itself. The prize runs the risk of transforming into a kind of upper-level seminar for socially committed debate impulses. Such a prize policy is well-intentioned and may also be well done. But in the end it may remain somewhat ineffective.
Ultimately, we expect the Pritzker Prize to provide an answer to the question: Who is actually responsible for building our cities, who is developing them? Who realizes the – and yes, this is also what matters, despite all the fine praise of the small – large and important buildings of our time? And how does the Pritzker jury deal with them? With, to mention just one name, the Bjarke Ingels’ of this world?
Perhaps it is simply the case that the prize is awarded too often. A new prize-winner every year, which may tempt us to take pleasure in small, clever decisions that are somehow not oriented towards the big picture. What the heck, let’s choose someone unknown, it’s nice, and next year there will be another prize. So how about only awarding the prize every three years? That would give the individual decision more weight – which might not be a bad thing.
