It’s amazing what the human imagination is capable of when given full rein. I was thinking of this whilst contemplating the Metropole Project of French architect Etienne-Louis Boullee (1728-1799). He studied classical French architecture and specialised in the neoclassical style that evolved from the mid18th Century. He designed a number of private houses from the 1760’s including the Hôtel de Brunoy (below - demolished in 1930).
An idealist by nature, Boullee was a reluctant architect, his first passion was painting but he was driven to architecture by his practical father. Later, Boullee became a teacher on the subject and wrote many essays. “He practised architecture with paper projects, beautifully rendered in pencil and wash, and only at the very end of his life, retiring to his country estate from the events of the Revolution, did he prepare them for publication.” But they remained largely ignored and his essays unpublished until the 1950’s when his reputation as the “elder statesman of the radical Enlightenment in architecture” became established.
Later in his career, Boullee designed buildings of “majestic nobility” so enormous that they could hardly be constructed today, even if the funds were available.
Interior, Metropolitan Church. Those ‘ants’ at the bottom are people
“In his important theoretical designs for public monuments, Boullée sought to inspire lofty sentiments in the viewer by architectural forms suggesting the sublimity, immensity, and awesomeness of the natural world, as well as the divine intelligence underlying its creation.”
Bibliotheque Nationale
Boullée’s mature work combines abstraction of geometric forms with a suggestion of ancient works to create a new concept of monumental building that would possess the calm, (no doubt enhanced by the subtle use of light) and the beauty of classical architecture while also having considerable expressive power. Perhaps I’m being overly practical here, but issues of heating and lighting come to mind.
Metropole Project 1781
Commissioning the Prussian architect Karl Friedrich Schinkel to build your palace was perhaps not the greatest of ideas. In 1838, he was asked to design a country retreat for Alexandra Feodorovna, wife of Nicholas I of Russia and it was to be perched on a precipice overlooking the Black Sea in Crimea.
Perspective of the Palace Complex in its Landscape Setting, Heinrich Mutzel, after Karl Friedrich Schinkel. Scottish National Gallery
Apparently, Schinkel’s plans were to blend classical and oriental designs. “Long colonnades, covered in mosaics and studded with precious gems, would be interwoven with gardens, culminating in an Ionic temple at the centre, beneath which would be housed a museum of local antiquities.”
Interior Perspective of the Great Hall, Looking Towards the Garden Court , Heinrich Asmus; after Karl Friedrich Schinkel. Scottish National Gallery
An exhibition called “Visionary Palaces” was held in 2016 at the Scottish National Gallery which included reproductions of Schinkel’s designs. I’m trying to imagine attending such an exhibition and losing myself in these fantastical designs, especially if the reproductions were large scale. You may not be surprised to learn that Schinkel’s Crimea design was “politely declined”.
Crimean Museum, Beneath the Temple Pavillion in the Centre of the Palace Complex, Viewed Looking Towards the Grand Pool in the Imperial Garden Court, W. Loeillot; after Karl Friedrich Schinkel. Scottish National Gallery
Fast forward to 1956 and the 89 yo. Frank Lloyd Wright unveils his 1.6 km (mile high) tower “The Illinois” proposed for a site in Chicago. It was to consist of 528 floors and use nuclear powered lifts. In the wake of the September 11 attacks, perhaps not such a great idea. Was this a case of delusions of grandeur of which many older men are accused? Or the final megalomaniacal statement in a remarkable (and some say egotistical) career?
References;
The Lyncean Group of San Diego
Apollo – The International Arts Magazine
The Architectural Review