Nikola Edelsztejn | The new university library is a deformed and meaningless monstrosity
People who call the new university library an “architectural masterpiece” don’t make any sense to columnist Nikola Edelsztejn. “The new UB is the result of a brainstorming session by drunk architects on a team-building trip to Vlieland.”
Brick paradise
For anyone who finds brown, baked clay an interesting and aesthetic building material, Amsterdam is a Garden of Eden. Admittedly, it’s very practical, easy to produce, and long-lasting.
Because of the neutrality and — in a way — the friendliness of the material, we rarely speak of brick buildings as monstrosities, eyesores, or, on the positive side, as gems or works of art. And when the latter does happen, it’s largely thanks to the ornaments, turrets, gates, and so on.
It doesn’t seem to possess a natural beauty, however, which is why an aesthetic exploration of a working-class neighborhood — with an almost identical architectural style to that found in the historic centers — can hardly be called a profitable venture. Do I, from an aesthetic point of view, see any difference between a canal house and an Amsterdam School building in the Rivierenbuurt? No.
Of course, I’m aware that the abundance of clay in Dutch soil is the main reason why the cities of the Netherlands are filled with the same brown, mid-height buildings that convey so little character that — even from a historical perspective — they were never associated with beauty: French natural stone was generally preferred, but when the money ran out, one could always fall back on brick.
Greenhouse
At the University Library — a brick building — they somehow managed to strip even the interior of every trace of refinement, resulting in an open-air museum of failed eclecticism.
While eclectic cities can leave visitors with an intense yet positive impression, sparking a certain sense of wonder — my favorite examples are Brussels, Bucharest, and Belgrade — a single eclectic building carries a significant risk: it can end up looking like the result of a brainstorming session by drunk architects on a team-building trip to Vlieland. And thus, the UvA Library was born.
Whoever came up with the idea of stretching an asymmetrical glass roof over the courtyard — evoking the image of a greenhouse somewhere in the Hague’s suburban hinterland — could never convince me that timeless aesthetics were the goal.
The almost embarrassing decision to install, as on the Roeterseilandcampus, the same kind of dull red and gray benches at every turn makes it all the more misshapen. The glossy white spiral staircase, which pierces the entrance hall like a spinning suppository, requires no further comment — it speaks for itself.
Little concrete palace
What surprises me is not that it’s an ugly building — the Netherlands (and nearly all of Northern Europe) is full of such structures. It’s quite clear that there was an attempt to inject some beauty while also trying to preserve a historic building. I’m almost tempted to say: forget the rules, tear down that national monument, and put up a nice little concrete palace instead. Then at least you’d have an eclectic contrast in the city that doesn’t pretend to be beautiful, but rather welcomes criticism, knowing no one will be offended — because its ugliness was its primary goal.
And who knows — perhaps Ceaușescu might gather his bullet-riddled body back together to come take a look.
