Snøhetta

Thanks to my third year architecture studio professor, Thomas Fowler, I was able to visit Snøhetta’s firm in New York among a few others. I remember being rather impressed with their scale models and unique representations. 

The first Snøhetta building I visited was the replacement of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, which takes place of the late design originally by Mario Botta. When I first heard about it, I looked up renderings and was pleased to see a building skin that was not boring, more or less. Curiously, all I could find were renderings from bird’s eye view.

Copyright Archdaily

Therefore, when I came upon the building it made sense that from the ground floor I could not see the famous rippling exterior. I figured, okay, I’m sure with Snøhetta’s merit I am bound to come upon a space that will strike me with awe. Unfortunately, that moment never arrived.

I entered the museum through a pretty standard double height foyer up its new wooden main staircase. I ambled through mostly plain white rooms filled with modern art, and there were some installations that were awesome. There just were no spaces that made me feel much emotion about where I was. 

We finally came to a sign pointing us toward the terrace. I thought that maybe this would be where I was going to be wowed and where there would be a breathtaking panoramic view of the city!

Nope. The terrace was only a few feet wide with no place to wander. It wasn’t exactly anything other than a small lookout point. Panoramic, sure, a bit. Most unimpressive was finally seeing the rippling concrete exterior layer. It was simply that–it had no meaning to the surrounding context other than maybe… the small waves you see in the bay–nothing remotely profound.

Disappointed and unimpressed, I shifted my focus back to the pieces of art within the building and tried not to think too much about how little play and adventure there was within the structure itself. It did not represent San Francisco, Mario Botta, or art to me either–just a wave-like exterior meant to display a variety in textural options… I guess.

Luckily, a few months later I had the chance of visiting another Snøhettan building, Oslo’s Opera House. This was completed about a decade ago and has received a number of architectural awards.

Being a Norwegian architectural firm, one would think the capital’s opera would have some depth and dynamic tendencies built into it. Thankfully, it did!

But not too much. It may have had to do with the fact that there was construction surrounding the Opera House on just about every adjacent side but not the waterfront.

From a distance, the structure has an inclining surface starting from ground level creating a walkable surface to its roof. This was the dynamic part. I thoroughly enjoyed the mini hike to the top. I like finding the highest thing and going to it. Additionally, even though the weather was nice enough to us and was not pouring rain down, I could tell that the inclined surface could have possibly resembled a small glacier when wet, more so than the smaller glass art installation floating not far off from the Opera’s waterfront.

I was pleased with the little bit of play embedded in the exterior of the Opera and how it represented Norwegian’s love of hiking mountains. Going inside fell short of impressive, though. 

It did not have to do with not being able to take a sneak peek into the theater itself. In Reykjavik’s Opera House, Harpa, we were not permitted inside, but I still explored to my heart’s content within the envelope of the building. It was merely that there was nowhere to really go or anything to do if you were not seeing a show or eating at the restaurant.

Sure, the secondary layer housing the main performance room consisted of many vertical wooden slats that was a nice warm contrast to the surrounding white marble and stone. I guess the more public focus of this opera house was its exterior rather than creating a protective place to be inside. There had to be a little give and take, I suppose. Maybe I just wanted to hang out somewhere that was not super cold outside!

Either way, even though I feel that Oslo’s Opera House could have created a more engaging space in its interior, it was definitely still more impressive than the SF MoMA. I know it could be seen as pretentious when a B.Arch with no license critiques such a prestigious firm, but this is mere observation and opinion. It is a good thing to have them and to question forms and functions even if it is from someone merited.

On a last note, I have realized I am a pretty big fan of Olafur Eliasson’s work. Thanks to the envelope of Reykjavik’s Harpa and a small portion of interior wall in Oslo’s Opera House, which were both designed by Eliasson, continuity and repetition can have its turn in creating a somewhat blissful feeling with its vastness.

Inside Reykjavik’s Harpa

Close up on an interior wall of Oslo’s Opera House