domus 34 November 2014 CONTENTS 35

November Volume 04 / Issue 01

2014 R200
Contributors Author Design Title
Apurva Bose
Suprio Bhattacharjee Editorial
Kaiwan Mehta 36 A cabinet of ideas and arguments
Photographers
Hemant Patil Confetti
Pallon Daruwala Contemporary museum for architecture in India
Gonzalo Puga Kaleidoscope-lexicon
Smiljan Radic
Kaiwan Mehta 38
Tomoyuki Sakaguchi
Manolo De Giorgi 57 Measurements
Italo Lupi 60 Graphic autobiography
Projects
Suprio Bhattacharjee 66 Navkar Architects Memory and invention
So what is the shape of a
Suprio Bhattacharjee 78 Edifice Consultants knowledge society?
Apurva Bose 90 ABRD Architects Integrating simplicity
96 Smiljan Radic Serpentine Pavilion 2014
Rassegna
INDIA 034 LA CITTÀ DELL’ UOMO 102 Office
Feedback
Ruggero Tropeano 107 Ruggero Tropeano’s Zurich

November Volume 04 / Issue 01

2014 R200

INDIA 034 LA CITTÀ DELL’ UOMO

LA CITTÀ DELL’ UOMO

034 November 2014
Cover: Clad in brick, the ziggurat-
like profile of the Brick School of
Architecture in Pune designed by
Navkar Architects forges an immediate
connection with the landscape. The
building is intended to age and weather
as quickly as the materials allow, such
that the students and users of the school
begin to appreciate the beauty of a
surface’s materiality, and the mark of
time upon surfaces.

Whiteboard notes from a lecture on the purpose and criticism of art objects
by Kaiwan Mehta. A series of ideas and arguments flow across spaces
such as the classroom or the magazine, where a subject-field and its
practice gets evaluated, reflected upon, and hence rejuvenated.
36 EDITORIAL
A CABINET OF IDEAS AND ARGUMENTS
This issue begins the fourth annual cycle for
Domus India, and in this issue we review the
nature and role of a magazine within its field of
operation; in our case, that being architecture
and design, which draws from, as well as
extends into art, visual culture and city studies.
Primarily, it is most important for Domus India
to have established that it will understand
architecture only within a broad cloud of
subjects and practices, which may stretch
beyond the tools and forms of architecture, but
it is also necessary we understand the body of
architecture today, which is much different from
its 16th and 19th century understandings.
So what one has realised in the past few
years, as one shapes and designs a magazine,
or any other form of public discourse on the
subject, is that, one is, at all points, trying to
understand through these deliberations and
conversations – what is ‘architecture’? What
shapes ‘architecture’? How do we understand
‘architecture’? And this, in many ways, is a
constant, ongoing story of trying to figure out
what ‘architecture’ and its extended field is all
about. There were words we used to talk about
architecture, and phrases that helped us discuss
buildings, and their designing and making...
but we realise those same words and phrases
stand on a different plane of meaning today!
There are new words that have also entered the
discourse... and we are still figuring out what is
to be done with them; but we know that they are
important to the operating of the field.
So what does a magazine do? Its primary task
is to contribute to the operating field, to reflect
its means and modes of operation, and hold up a
mirror to the way the subject and field are shaping
up – itself and the world. It should build the
ground for productive criticism and evaluation,
through means of ‘thick description’ and creative
drawing of the field-network, references-
reminiscence, and understanding of resources that
build up the practice and its intellectual measure;
at the same time, it should have the courage to
pull the ground below its feet!
Understanding that Domus India was, in a way,
a Library of Time for the field of architecture
in India, as well as a Homing Cabinet, every
issue is a ‘cabinet of ideas and arguments’ on
display, on exhibition... to shape itself into a
provisional book – a provisional book rewritten
and redrawn, or extended and expanded, every
next issue. Every issue records in a hurry the
many worlds that architecture occupies, the
visual world we shape and inhabit, the world
of making and building we live in, and operate
within. It accounts in a ledger the tensions
and imaginations the world of architecture
that shapes and unmakes itself day after day;
the landscape of smiths, carpenters, techies,
bankers, corporates, politicians, and all those
who partake in the making of a physical world
we live in. Every issue runs against time, as it
tries to bring within its fold the many measures
of the time it occupies; the many measures that
scale the length and meaning of architecture,
day after every changing day! It collects and
Kaiwan Mehta
stores with a discerning eye, but also with the
sensibility of a library where every stretch
of account should be docked, and housed for
reference at a time later, when meanings may
change and new meanings may need to revisit
and read some old books from the hidden
shelves of a library.
In a contemporary world as ours, where ideas
and meanings float, finding stories to rest in,
believe in... homing of ideas to evaluate their
own purpose and reflect on their lives (however
short-lived) is necessary, and the magazine is
precisely that box, that container which also
showcases, which will allow things of various
means and shapes to rest next to each other,
however different or odd from its neighbour, but
sit within proximity of variations, and strange
objects – giving home, however transient, to an
idea or a meaning. This cabinet is a showcase
of ideas that are being juggled around – at
times with certainty, at times with tentative
lives – but they all need a resting place, a home
for some brewing, some growing-up or self-
reflection and evaluation; the magazine is the
‘cabinet for ideas’. Often strange, or apparently
unconnected ideas come and sit next to each
other, without any obvious logic... but that often
is also a reflection of the times we occupy and
think and work in... where stories connect the
apparently unconnected, or narratives expose
the hidden relationships of things when they are
brought in the presence of each other through
a methodology such as the editorial structure
of a magazine. The cabinet has a finite form,
but its glass panels always allow a constant
visual conversation; and every month you can
rearrange the objects, bring in new ones, or get
rid of some.
The cabinet and the library have a visual logic
of arrangement, like that of an exhibition, where
the logic of a narrative builds up a content-form,
image-meaning, conversation, dialectic. Every
issue is a book, and necessarily should be so,
but it is a book with many sequels, and that
immediately does not let the magazine be a
book as we know it. It is a book with an internal
narrative logic, an argumentative format, a plot
with characters; but that plot can be redrawn
again in the next issue, characters may change
and subsequent arguments can revisit and
challenge previous ones.
We begin our fourth year with this revisiting
of the library, opening wide the doors of the
cabinet, and pulling out parts of objects that
are still there, leftovers, and new growths on
older objects... trying to understand what has
been the body and life of architecture in the
past of present time. Making a list of ideas and
stories from which keywords emerge – rather
than pick up word and establish or search for
their meanings, to pick up experiences and
stories and identify the key words they express
or throw forth; the meaning is the journey
to the word, and hence then, establishing a
lexicon of words that occupy insistently and
persistently, intensely and possessively the
worlds of architecture, design, visual culture,
domus 34 November 2014
and city studies. The lexicon is a map, for
time-now, and its ingredients, and stories,
could be juggled to shape out a new map – a
landscape of floating meanings and words that
shape our time and geography – but through
substantiated methodologies and processes; like
in a kaleidoscope, where random broken pieces
of glass constantly form new constellations, but
only within strict geometry and measure, which
comes from the logic of a mirrors architected in
a particular structural logic. It is not ‘arbitrary
disorder’ but a disorder of things that produces
the measure of our landscape of work and
thought, and ‘correspond(s) to our state of mind’.
The lexicon is a kaleidoscope which holds its
logic in a provisional state of being – definite
but transient, substantiated but open to new
thoughts – and hence, capable of measuring our
time and geography, every new moment, but
within an ethical tectonic of belief, knowledge
and political honesty. In this issue we bring the
first part of this Lexicon-Kaleidoscope.
In a magazine there follows a logic of the visual,
especially in a magazine such as Domus where
the intellectual narrative is very important;
and architecture and design that so occupy the
world of visual culture are based on the skeleton
and flesh of visual journeys, narratives and
reminiscences. These visual residues shape also
a lexicon... bits of ‘memory’ building into the
ever-producing larger dream of the world,
and the physical manifestation of that which
we occupy.
In the Projects section we delve into one more
typology this issue onwards in a focussed way
– the campus. Homes and vacation homes,
corporate buildings within a landscape of
business districts or suburbs, etc. have been
some of the typologies we have consistently
explored... and so have we focussed on campuses
earlier, but here three of them come up together
– two are corporate campuses, and one, a PROJECTS
school for architecture and design. These three
projects, as they sit next to each other, raise very
critical questions on architectural language,
its intentions, and behaviour. It is evident how
at times architecture takes for granted certain
things, like wearing its skin like a school- or
factory-uniform – automatic, and not through
choice – while at other times, architecture
seeks a pleasure in postponing its completion,
in which there is a reflection on architecture
and its templates, motifs and patterns. In these
examples, we also witness hints of possible
fetishising of architectural ideas and tactics; and
these then precisely exhibit the state of affairs
within the practice of architecture.
In all, this issue is one more milestone in the
journey of architectural criticism in India; it is a
milestone more in the sense of being a lap in a
journey, a stretch of journey that slows down to
pause and think, ruminate and mull over things,
before moving ahead with things that one did
before, maybe differently now on, or maybe in
the same tone again... but to continue doing and
journeying, with belief, ethics and a substantial
methodology and process, as always. km
66 PROJECTS
Navkar Architects
MEMORY AND INVENTION
A Building-In-Process. The Birth of a Campus. A synthesis of spatial models
from history and modernist architecture within the country. A metaphorical
bridge between the forced flatness of the city, and the liberating gradient of
the hill. The dissolution of the object through the experience of space and
light, materiality and landscape. The seemingly effortless confluence of radical
interpretation with the familiarity of memory. This exceptional building is
many stories woven into one masterly meta-narrative
Text Suprio Bhattacharjee
Photos Hemant Patil
I wait for a leaf-green hatchback to arrive on a
pleasant August afternoon, on one of the dusty
roads that wind through Undri, a southern
suburb of Pune, on the fringe of the Deccan
Plateau. Undri is characteristic of many distant
suburbs – former agricultural holdings are being
converted into gated communities as the city
continues to sprawl outwards unabated. Public
transport is virtually non-existent. This is 1950s
America. Reloaded.
The hills are an inescapable presence in this
part of Pune, and thankfully so. There are times
within the city when one forgets to realise the
presence of an undulating ground. But here too,
one can see man’s efforts to unwittingly tame
and ‘generalise’ what has been offered. A gently
sloping site is being filled to provide a ‘level
base’ for a future shopping mall (how many of
them?) while a sharply sloping hillside has been
ruthlessly excavated to provide a ‘flat ground’
for building. I count a height of at least 40 feet
in one case, and I wonder whether the buildings
domus 34 November 2014 domus 34 November 2014 PROJECTS 67
Opposite page: the
front takes the form of
an imposing dwar or
gate that rises from the
ground. Stairs follow this
sloping edge up to the
roof. This page: clad in
brick, the ziggurat-like
profile of the building
forges an immediate
connection with the
landscape. Below:
illustration showing a few
of the design features of
the building
on an adjacent plot, standing on what has
now become a precipice are at risk. An absurd
disrespect of topography. The world should be
flat. We have no respect for the ground.
A few months earlier, in one of those instances
of random internet surfing I happened to chance
upon this building. A school of architecture in
Pune! Designed by, wait, Girish Doshi. It took a
while to sink in. I was delighted. Finally there
is a public building designed by him. I had
first experienced the sheer power of his work
through the startling images we were shown
in a presentation he made here in the city of
Bombay more than a decade ago. The projects
were houses, and each work was distinct from
the other in its physical manifestation. But there
was a sacred thread that bound them. A thread
that hinted at an elusive yet graspable world-
view. I have no hesitation in admitting that I
was stumped at the time. I began to realise
that this is one architect whose works need
closer inspection.
68 PROJECTS
That opportunity has arrived today. It is a
Saturday. But Girish shall attend the school –
where he holds the Design Chair. Before long,
I see the city car pull up, a window rolls down,
greetings are exchanged, and we head onward
to the school. En route, a student trying to
negotiate a large pothole is taken on board.
The landscape meanwhile has changed. We are
driving south to the edge of Undri, on the outer
fringe of Pune. There are fewer buildings, but
the onslaught of urbanisation will reach there
in a couple of years. In the near distance, a hill
rises majestically to frame the horizon. At its
base, a dense cluster of trees offers a glimpse of
many sloping roof elements.
This is the school. One enters the site from an
approach road towards the west. The building is
still in the process of being completed, although
one may fail to realise the same. The depth of
space upon entry is limited – there is no real
‘foreground’ – and thus there is little room to
build a transition from frayed suburb to the
institution. But nonetheless, this constraint is
resolved deftly. The building has a low scale
upon entry. The front takes the form of an
imposing ‘dwar’ or gate that rises from the
ground. Stairs follow this sloping edge up to
the roof. It seems that the building here has
‘touched down’ to allow for decompression – by
an amplification of porosity and access. The
fairly large dwar is flanked by stairways on
both sides, and one ascends to the vantage of
the ‘gatekeeper’s post’. From here one looks
back to the city, and over a series of terraces
and cascading and see-sawing raked roofs (that
in the future will be covered by vegetation, I am
informed) one can ascend to the upper levels
of the school programme as well. The ziggurat-
like profile forges an immediate connection
with the landscape, as a kind of metaphor for
the transformation of the flatness of the city’s
ground, to the hill that lies, quite literally, in the
school’s backyard. The Academic Coordinator
of the school, Anand Iyer, informs me that he
often uses this artificial-natural landscape for
his classes. The building offers and enables a
seamless connection with this landscape – not
only perceptually and metaphorically, but
physically as well. The roof is meant to become
an active space of engagement for the school’s
pedagogical functions, as well as offering a
space of mediation (and reconciliation) between
contexts. The building’s engagement with
its context and its impact upon users can be
immediately perceived in this experience of
what becomes more than a mere envelope,
with the articulation of what Jorn Utzon
immortalised as the ‘fifth facade’ – the forgotten
space of the roof.
The ‘dwar’ is a porous edge nesting a verandah
that leads to what one begins to realise is a
rather intimate entrance court despite its fairly
large vertical proportions – the first in a series
along a central axis. Its actual physical scale
is amplified by a perceived sense of greater
depth – with its articulated section, light floods
in unexpectedly, and views expand surprisingly.
There is no real distinction between the level of
the forecourt and the ‘building’. I am explained
that the only step provided was merely a need
to prevent water logging in the driveway from
flooding the building. The architect would
have preferred no change in level. This deft
handling of the building edge, or rather the
attempt made to blur this as far as possible
is the first of many small moves that begin to
add to a Gestalt of experience. I realise the red
wall seen in the photographs of the building
is missing. I later come to know that a change
in brief had necessitated that. Not that it
domus 34 November 2014 domus 34 November 2014 PROJECTS 69
This spread: the building endless opportunities
hurts. In fact, it amplifies the sense of the dwar always seems unfinished, for chance encounters,
as a mere metaphorical presence, heralding as if constantly yet there are also myriad
one’s transition into another realm. And one undergoing change. And nooks and corners that
can also begin to realise how photographs can it is thus able to sustain will offer moments of
the various programmatic pause and solitude.
alter perceptions and expectations of what one transformations that a Throughout the built
will actually see. What seems like an imposing pedagogical instituition space, a deep connect is
overbearing presence dissolves in actual demands. Within, bridges forged with the ground
experience, as the lack of depth ensures that one span the voids throughout and the sky
the building, creating
is never really conscious of the scale of the dwar.
It is monumental yet intimate. And it is not an
object. It has the same presence as a gopuram in
a South Indian temple. A totem from a distance.
An experiential threshold in engagement.
Once inside this threshold, one becomes aware
of the fact that the gap observed on the top of
the dwar runs right through the centre of the
building. It is not very wide, around a foot or
less, covered in glass to prevent the ingress of
rain. As an architectural trope, it is a powerful
delineation or indication of the primary axis of
movement within the campus, yet it remains as
this imperceptible marker, not overbearing, but
with just enough of a presence to aid in spatial
orientation. The ground by contrast is freeing.
Conceived of as a landscape, one is liberated to
meander and mull about. Girish later informs
me that the gap, besides its spatial function,
also has a technical function – it becomes the
necessary expansion joint for the concrete
structural frame. For an observer, this brings to
mind the incisions in the roof of Peter Zumthor’s
Therme Vals. In both these projects, the purpose
and proportions of this gap are shared.
The first axial courtyard becomes a hinge for the
support facilities of the institution. From here,
one can access the administrative facilities, the
library, meeting rooms and staff rooms. Intimate
courtyards punctuate the flow of spaces, and
there never seems to be a moment where one
does not become aware of the presence of the
70 PROJECTS domus 34 November 2014 domus 34 November 2014 PROJECTS 71

1 Entrance plaza 17 Central gathering space This page: throughout

2 Entrance lobby
3 Waiting / Reception
4 Entrance exhibition space
1 5 Director’s cabin
3 4 6 HOD’s cabin
7 Board room
8 Design chair
9 Faculty roomt
10 General administration
11 AV room
12 Pantry for staff
7 13 Cafeteria
14 Kitchen
15 Store / Utility
16 Multi-purpose space
5
18 Studio the building, light
floods in unexpectedly,
19 Classrooms
and views expand
20 Study space surprisingly. The building
21 Library itself has become an
22 Computer centre organism, a living,
breathing entity – open
23 Workshop
and receptive to external
24 Terrace stimuli. The building
25 Rainforest garden is intended to age and
26 Water pool weather as quickly as the
materials allow, such that
27 Amphitheatre the students and users
28 Ramp of the school begin to
29 Transformer appreciate the beauty of
30 Watchman’s cabin a surface’s materiality,
and the mark of time
31 Dry kund upon any surface

Project
Brick School of
Architecture
2 SECTION EE Location
Pune, Maharashtra
Client
Satish Misal Educational
Foundation
(Pooja Misal)
Architect
Girish Doshi, Navkar
8 Architects
Design Team
Girish Doshi, Ajeet
Hippergekar, Ubez Shaikh
SECTION DD Structural Engineer
ROOF PLAN
Vilas Purandare
Electrical Consultant
F Sachin Godbole
Project Management
Consultant
Nikhil Gathani, R.K.Gathani
Engineers, Pune
30 1 31 Contractor
2 Ajay Sanas, Sanskruti
9 8 6 5 Buildcon, Pune
A A Photographer
3
SECTION CC Hemant Patil
B 4 7 26 B Signage
10
Sayali Sancheti, Forest
C 23 12 11 23 C Communications, Pune
15 Site Area
20,000 m2
28 28 Project area
3,529 m2
D 16 17 16 D Initiation of Project
April 2012
26
E 14 E
28 13 27
SECTION BB landscape, or a streak of sunlight, or the sky. And that the building always seems unfinished, that role – a technical function – allowing for a set
the breeze. A tree is always at reach. Spaces are it is constantly undergoing change. And it is able of standard details to accommodate a range of
18 18 18 18 separated by these courtyards, or by lightweight to sustain these transformations. This building partitions of varying degrees of opacity.
partition walls and movable panels of glass or offers a telling lesson – that the building itself After the dense programme of the facilities
timber. Spaces can be opened up or closed off has become an organism, a living, breathing bar, the ground plane ascends to a large
at will and to suit changing programmes and entity, open and receptive to external stimuli; the space. A transverse street becomes the first
dynamic user-needs. One can modulate and most important of which are the building’s users. cross-axis subtly delineating a threshold into
calibrate light and natural ventilation through One begins to recall the structuralist occupations a vast internal court – the ‘Kanvinde’ plaza
F
these panels. Scales change dramatically, with of Dutch architects in the post war years, what as Girish calls it – that he hopes will become
the exposed concrete ceiling never at rest, with Aldo van Eyck and Herman Hertzberger’s the fulcrum of the institution’s activities. He
29 SECTION AA plunging downward, or rising proudly. This famed explorations into the nature of the likens it to a large ‘living room’ – a space that
sets the tone for the spatial structure of the educational institution and the workplace. is free of pre-determined form and programme.
entire school. The key to achieving this spatial flexibility is a The boundaries of the space itself can be
The Academic Coordinator explains how simple but effective detail. I begin to notice that transformed. Two large multi-purpose spaces
during the short life of the school since its all the beams (which are of standard width) on either side extend the plaza transversely
inception, the building’s robust structure and have a groove in their soffits. For the architect, when desired through a set of sliding and
spatial malleability have enabled and easily this strategy allows the beam to appear lighter folding partitions. Overhead, the floor slabs
accommodated frequent changes to programme and finer than it actually is – a visual ploy – as progressively steps inward such that at its
and use. This very adaptability points to the well as a certain ‘dignity’ that is accorded to crown, the tip of this spatial enclosure is nearly
0 10M
KEY PLAN SECTION FF building’s key strategy of sustaining a dynamic an otherwise hard-at-work structural device. four storeys above ground – like the void that
institution. As Girish tells me, he likes the fact This subtle ornament also possesses a dual hides beneath a ‘shikhara’ – deceptively solid
 domus 34 November 2014 PROJECTS 73

Below: conceptual
sketches of certain
spatial models that
were discussed during
the conversation with
the architect; they
include drawings of
IIM Ahmedabad, and
representations of
Dravidian/South Indian
Temple models

This page top and

opposite page top
left, and below left:
the building has a low
scale upon entry. The
front takes the form of
an imposing dwar or
gate that rises from the
ground. Far left and far
below right: visualisation
of the entrance plaza.
Left: visualisation of the
amphitheatre. Below left:
visualisation of the view
from the ramp lobby.
Below right: visualisation
of the the central
gathering space
74 PROJECTS domus 34 November 2014
76 PROJECTS
from the outside, but hollowed out on the inside.
This momentous space is at once outdoors –
connected as it is through a number of spatial
‘sluices’ to the elements – the gap in the roof,
the transverse streets, as well as clerestories
and openings.
One will never cede to appreciate the breeze,
nor the sky. I am informed that the terrace of
this plaza will actually become a large ‘ground’
– that in the future can accommodate any
needed vertical expansion through the use of a
steel structure. The architect likens this ascent
from a heavy base to a light shaft and then
even a lighter crown to classical models, and
describes the change in materials to achieve
this gradation of lightness. The floors of the
public spaces, which possess a semi-outdoor
character, will be in cobbles of dressed basalt – a
stone that epitomises the building culture of the
Deccan; while the more defined spaces are in
‘Macharella’ or Andhra chocolate – a dolomite
variant. The architect chose these materials for
their chromatic affinity to the facing brick that
clads the building’s walls, as well as for their
affordability and ability to weather. Besides,
Girish speaks enchantingly of how he wishes
the building to age and weather as quickly as
the materials allow, such that the students and
users of the school begin to appreciate the beauty
of a surface’s materiality, and the mark of time
upon any surface. He opposes the contemporary
fascination with the gloss and spic-and-span, and
prefers the weathered beauty of old buildings as
well as the imperfections of material – such as
the cast concrete soffits – that are left untouched
to show off their ‘birthmarks’ as the architect
pronounces them elatedly. Our conversations
veer towards our shared affinity for Mandu, and
the sheer beauty of a ‘living ruin’. This brings
us to the discussion of landscape. With the
aforementioned vegetation on the roof, as well
as the presence of courtyards within the spatial
structure of the building, one begins to sense
a future vision of what the architect begins to
domus 34 November 2014
Previous spread: scales
change dramatically in the
building, with the exposed
concrete ceiling never at
rest, plunging downward,
or rising proudly. This sets
the tone for the spatial
structure of the entire
school. This page, left:
the gap observed on the
top of the dwar runs right
through the centre of the
building. It is covered
in glass to prevent the
ingress of rain (also see
previous spread, right).
This page below and
opposite page: intimate
courtyards punctuate
the flow of spaces, but
there never seems to be
a moment where one
does not become aware
of the presence of the
landscape, or a streak of
sunlight, or the sky
domus 34 November 2014 PROJECTS 77
describe as a ‘used’ building – and the fact that
native vegetation has been prescribed – such
that after a few years it will appear as if the
landscape was ‘always there’, and the building
wound its way around it. I can begin to imagine
the transformations that would take place. Wild
grass on the roof. Large native trees swaying
to the breeze. Grasses at the edge of the streets
shooting away at the distance, flowers that bloom
during specific seasons. Our shared aversion to
a ‘manicured landscape’ hits home, as does a
shared aversion to the portrayal of the artifice as
an object that resists the marks of time.
The ground plane continues to rise with the
ascent of the landscape, past another transverse
street, and for once I am grateful for a building
that does not resist the topography, but rather
revels in its very nature. The studios terminate
this ascent along the central axis – with axial
interstices between them that lead to the
foothills beyond. Each studio is a two-level space,
similar to the famed studio spaces of B V Doshi’s
CEPT, and a set of folding doors extend this
space southward over shaded patios that will
step up to form mini-amphitheatres. A retaining
wall was avoided thus, and the fact that this is a
building that is built within a limited budget hits
home as well.
Bridges span the voids throughout the building,
and chance encounters will be the order of the
day. Yet there are also myriad nooks that will
offer moments of pause and solitude. A deep
connect is forged with the ground and the
sky. The architect likens this connection to a
transcendental yet primordial human urge – and
he speaks of how the terrace above the Kanvinde
Court will have high parapet walls that will
obscure the inevitable urbanisation in the near
future, ‘such that the student shall connect to
the sky’.
This building is the first within what is planned
to be a design campus spread over a tight site
of 5 acres. The school of architecture will be
accompanied by a school of design that will be
twice its size, and a future hostel building shall
terminate the central axis. The tight nature of
this urban site defines the building’s design as
an inner realm within a square perimeter, which
the architect likens to a South Indian temple –
a parallelogram that reveals itself ‘layer after
layer’ like a set of nested figures-within-figures
– as one moves through its concentric entities
to the most sacred space; in this case the ‘living
room’ of the Kanvinde Court. The ‘promenade
architecturale’ here unfolds in this fashion.
Another model that Girish recalls is that of the
‘institutional courtyard’ – like the one at Kahn’s
IIM Ahmedabad. And the sense of a changing
datum within an institution and how it alters
our perception of the place, similar again, to
Kahn’s IIM. And the architect fondly recollects
childhood memories of the courtyard of the
fabled Raste Wada in the old city – that he could
see every day from his room.
This building holds many treasures, and as
such becomes an act of pedagogy in itself.
True learning comes through experience and
discovery, and this building will become such a
place of learning – with the marks of time and
use etched proudly upon it. As the Academic
Coordinator excitedly mentions, ‘every day I find
something new here’. What greater gift could one
ask for? This is a pivotal moment for our
architectural culture.