How Tate Modern became the building of the century

What was once a gloomy brickshed is now one of the most awe-inspiring
art galleries in the world. As Tate Modern tops our chart, its architect
reveals his trick: avoid glamour and keep it raw

“It is totally unimaginable now,” says Jacques Herzog, “but this was a huge chunk of
the city that was completely excluded from public life, overgrown and set back behind
high walls. It felt like Sleeping Beauty’s castle.”

The Swiss architect is referring to Bankside power station, the great brick hulk that he
and Pierre de Meuron transformed into Tate Modern in the year 2000, turning it into a
cathedral of art that is now officially the most popular attraction in the UK, receiving
5.9 million visitors last year. People don’t just come for the art, but to experience the
most powerful architectural transformation of the century, and one of the most majestic
indoor public spaces in the world.

“It’s not so easy to deal with existing structures, not to destroy them and not to respect
them too much,” says Herzog, whose small, then-unknown practice was selected in the
1994 competition precisely because it proposed to do the least to the power station.

Twenty years on, the project is no less powerful. In fact, it seems ahead of its time. The
turn of the millennium was a time when “iconic” architecture was in its overblown
prime, every city desperate for a piece of the “Bilbao effect”, following Frank Gehry’s
thrashing titanium fish for the Guggenheim Museum. To take what seemed like a
gloomy 1950s brick shed and strip it out, adding a bare minimum of new elements in
raw concrete, glass and steel, was a deeply strange thing to do. Tate duly received
criticism from the architectural establishment for its reticence, accused of lacking the
confidence to commission a more flamboyant new building.

“It was incredible foresight from Nick Serota, former Tate director to think of using this
building. He had seen artists working in industrial spaces in London and New York, but
to turn it into a gallery was new,” says Herzog. “We knew we had to keep it raw. We
didn’t want to go for glamour, or add decorative elements or formal details. We learned
that poor materials and ugliness are powerful aesthetic elements.”

Herzog & de Meuron has cemented its position as probably the most sought-after
architecture practice in the world, but Tate Modern remains its defining work.