Monsieur Seidler’s Jeu d’Esprit
22 October 2015
Harry Seidler, Australia’s self-proclaimed “torchbearer of modern architecture,” may have passed away in 2006 but his legacy remains, if you will pardon the expression, solidly cemented within the landscape of architectural history. His uncompromising persona, whilst ridiculed by some as being tyrannical, remains for others, his greatest virtue. Here was a gentleman architect who refused to diverge from the idealistic principles behind Modernism, even in the face of what most architects regard as the two great fearsome bureaucratic machines, the local council and the town planner. His architectural works dot the Sydney skyline, with now famed commercial projects including Australia Square and the MLC Centre as well as residential projects including the Elizabeth Bay apartments. What these buildings have come to represent is the triumph of will and conviction towards ideals of civic amenity and an experiential architecture which today, is obviously in short supply.
Set alongside the otherwise hum-drum streetscape of Sydney’s Clarence Street, Harry Seidler’s last commercial project is carefully inserted, much like a jewel inset upon a crown, a moment of virtue trapped between a vulgar eight storey carpark and a similarly uninteresting pseudo-classical office block. L’Alliance Française de Sydney stands, unassuming and unpretentious, its solid repetition of brises oeil and its ever sculptural curves distinguishing the façade from the otherwise dreary, monotonous boredom which this city never seems to tire of.
On first approaching this white concrete structure from the intersection of Clarence and Market, we find that true to his vision of the modernist city, Seidler’s building exceeds Sydney Council’s height restrictions. This is perhaps a fitting tribute and his final battle cry against local government where once Seidler had fought so gallantly to ensure his two, now instantly recognisable towers, also bravely pierced the skyline. Here we find a quite stunning reversal to his other more well-known urban pieces. Where once he advocated a singular sculptural tower, proudly alone upon an expansive public plaza, the Alliance Française is urban infill, sliding snugly in line with the rest of the cityscape.
From afar, his solid brises oeil sets up a rhythmic vertical pattern, challenging the otherwise horizontal emphasis of its surrounding neighbours. Here stands a building which is proud of its necessity for height, the result of economic viability and additional classroom needs for the Alliance Française. Repetition along the Clarence Street façade is broken thrice, first by a deep four storey vertical void set into the building, a second, smaller single storey horizontal void, similarly inset upon façade and finally, a top floor which, freed of the brises oeil pattern, becomes a simple sharp edge defining the building’s entablature. The building is thus articulated to simultaneously fit in with its surroundings as an infill, whilst also expressing individuality and more importantly, Seidler’s beliefs in repetition, simplicity and elegance.
Turning attention toward the entrance, Seidler’s playful spirit begins to take form as we approach it from the street. A gentle protruding ripple and curved horizontal beam becomes evident, referencing no doubt, his self-proclaimed linkage of Modernism with the Baroque period. Contrary to his own rhythmic patterns above, the awning’s curves sit curiously, yet somehow appropriate, the undulating forms boxed by the rectilinear geometries of the city.
Arriving under the canopy, a double height atrium is revealed to us and similarly undulating glass softens what would otherwise have been a harsh rectilinear end. It is through these small but significant moves that Seidler greets the street, creating the only point of interest along this otherwise unassuming part of Sydney. Without the freedom or manoeuvring room for large expansive courtyards, Seidler has nevertheless successfully retained conviction in his belief that entrances are defining thresholds which belong to the public domain.
Passing under this sculptural awning, we are swept inside, a threshold defined firstly by a thin line of glass, then by a change in the floor texture. Once inside, we are confronted by an elegant spiral staircase which speaks simultaneously of gravitas and lightness. Black stone sits heavily, suspended along the white concrete spiral which draws the visitor upwards toward the library and then downward toward the basement theatre. As an object of intrigue, the staircase certainly proves successful, becoming the only obvious curve within his rather more restrained rectilinear grid, from which the interior has obviously been developed.
Moving deep into this cavernous space we find the ceiling abruptly drops down from the atrium. We are now safely hidden behind the staircase and protected from the street, secure within a quiet enclave known as Le Grand Café, with its menu of les plat du jour and the soft chatter of the Francophone. In the midst of the whitewashed ceiling and stairs, we find ourselves confronted by a mural rug, designed by Seidler himself and with obvious parallels (despite its wavy lines) to the geometric work of Mondrain. Just as with his first work in Sydney, the Rose Seidler house, he is able to offer visitors to his buildings the process of experiential discovery, a journey through pure Modernist white and concluding with a joyful interplay of colour, line and texture. It is through moments such as these that Seidler reaffirms for us the fact that architecture is not merely about objects, but about spatiality and that art and architecture are, in many ways, interwoven and inseparable.
To one corner of the building, as viewed from the café, we find another separation. Two angular walls and a thin line of glass define a second corridor, allowing the leased offices above to be, perhaps more mundanely, separated from the Alliance Française entrance. Despite the interior of this building being occasionally interrupted by the inelegance of its CCTVs and its somewhat random sprinklers, the overall flow remains in possession of a certain je ne sais quoi. Its welcoming entrance provides a momentary pause for intrigue, yet its strict adherence to a rectilinear grid ensures that classrooms and office spaces above remain exceedingly efficient. Seidler is thus able to strike the perfect balance between a building’s civic role in engaging with the street whilst retaining the tenants of functionalist Modernism.
At a time when the architects of Sydney are prevented from expressing a moral voice, where design is driven by planning codes rather than ingenuity and where developers dictate the streetscape condition, we, the inhabitants of the city, should look to some of Seidler’s unwavering convictions and fight for the common civic good. We cannot disregard his unwavering idealism, expressed through the decidedly Modern articulation of L’Alliance Française de Sydney building. Today, almost seven years since its completion, it remains a valuable civic amenity and a legacy within the ever changing fabric of our city. With Seidler’s careful thought for balancing economic viability with education needs, a functional façade with a sweeping entrance undulation, there can be no doubt that had he lived to see this building completed, he would have stood proudly in front of his critics and declared, in the words of Edith Piaf, Non, je ne regrette rein…