Preamble
Architects intervene on the urban fabric, and in doing so, have an influence that far outlasts their lifespan. Therefore, they exert a soft form of power with has an insidious influence on people’s lives. Through heritage, in particular, we shine a light on certain aspects of society while inevitably throwing shade on others. While on the one hand heritagisation reinforces establishments in power, urban erasure represses undesired pasts and poses a threat to the identity of marginalised groups whose past is elided. I believe that as a profession we must become more aware of the trend lines that we may be unawarely following and we must practise due diligence when intervening on the built fabric. Thus, this project explores how architects have at times been accomplices to reinforcing hegemonic histories and how one might subvert such trends and add a new layer of memory to sites of erasure.
This project has therefore been an exercise of investigating trends regarding heritage practice, diagnosing an issue, and generating a proposal that follows my desire for historical awareness, transparency and representation. Indeed, If there is one narrative my project is partisan to, it is the value in democratic exchange. I have reflected every step of the way, treading carefully and wanting to be precise and cautious. However, the proposal I share now I full-heartedly believe crystallises my initial ambition: an architecture that honestly articulates what preceded it and provides us with the closure to move beyond.
This project was pre-selected for TU Delft's Archiprix Award, winner to be announced in October 2021.Preamble
Digging below the surface. Palimpsest Site Plan of the Parc Chanot (1906-2021).
In Marseille, France, there is a no-place. The Parc Chanot has completely obliterated the urban grid, almost denying its belonging to the rest of Marseille. Chanot’s 17 hectares house seven exhibition halls, making up a total of 60k m2 of usable space for exhibitions. These are served by 1800 parking spaces. The site is covered in shed roofs and false facades, littered with cars, yet void of people. Its architectural blandness evokes a deliberate attempt at placelessness and anonymity. It is subject only to transient use, removed from local life and its facilities are outdated.
However, while it may not seem it, the Parc Chanot is a site dense in history, and controversy. In 1906, the Parc Chanot was founded to host France very first strictly colonial exhibition. Having become the face of consumerism and trade, the site evoked pride in the early- to mid-20th century, something reflected in the architecture. Indeed, French-designed internationally-inspired pavilions were scattered across the Parc, creating a Disneyland-worthy illusion.
Image Source: www.humanzoos.net, ‘Marseille Colonial Exposition’, 1922.
This first colonial exposition was followed in 1908 by an electrical exposition and in 1922 another colonial exposition. However, in the 1960s, the entire site was razed and rebuilt, a timeline coinciding with the end of France’s so-called colonial empire, as Algeria became independent in 1962. While this may be a simple temporal coincidence, I have reason to doubt it. Indeed, also in 1962 Marseille’s colonial museum was emptied within a week in such a rush that botanical samples collection what thrown out windows. What transpires, is that decolonisation brought about a taboo which to this day can still not be fully understood as archives relating to colonialism aren’t fully publicly accessible.
Marseille, no matter how diverse, still struggles with issues of racial discrimination, division and religious intolerance. What happened in Parc Chanot has certainly a part of responsibility in this. And if it is not the cause of such issues, it is certainly a big emblem of it. Looking back now, both at what happened specifically in the Parc Chanot and at the wider colonial context, many associate the parc with shame. These colonial exhibitions were intended to recruit volunteers for the colonies as well as shape public opinion, reinforcing racist sentiment.
In the archival image above, you see layered meanings: in the main image you see the clear hierarchy between the two individuals in the foreground, while at the top left, the watermark ‘humanzoos’ points to how history looks back on such exhibitions where the consent of people shipped to Europe from the colonies is highly debatable.
I believe the Parc Chanot is what I have come to name ‘shady heritage’. ‘Heritage’ refers to the debt and riches we inherit and ‘Shady’ refers to something sneaky, suspect, of doubtful honesty or legality.
The Parc Chanot is shady heritage because it is something that does not abide by today's mainstream values (as evidenced by the watermark) and that has been subjected to deliberate erasure. The Parc Chanot is one of Marseille’s many skeletons in the closet, an unhealed wound in the built fabric. However, it does not need to remain shady. It could be brought into the light and learned from.
Indeed, in 2018, Marseille City Hall called for the re-design of the Parc expressing that ‘it is time to change century. [...] The city wants a place that is more open to the general public, more modern and more attractive.’ The redesign of this site provides a priceless opportunity to acknowledge the site’s shady history and turn it into something meaningful, materialising 21st-century discussions on potential acknowledgement, reparations, and reconciliation.
From then on, I targeted my survey efforts on the heart of the site, the Grand Palais located at the heart of the site. This building has been the face of the site for over a century, as its story is a complicated one.
Aerial imagery, 1952-55
Image Source: Remonter le temps, IGN.
The first Grand Palais was designed by the Eiffel company in 1906 for the first colonial exhibition in Marseille. The building wore many different facades to adapt to events, however for over 50 years, the original low carbon steel frame remained on site. Following damages caused by the building's occupation in WW2 by French, German and American troops, the structure was sold to an agricultual company in Arles, north west of Marseille, was reassembled to store rice. Meanwhile, a new Grand Palais (II) took the place of the old frame, and still stands on site to this day. Most recently however, the Grands Palais I structure was taken apart again and is decaying on a brownfield site in Arles, awaiting a new lease on life, and the Grand Palais II is due to be demolished.
Image Source: gallica.bnf.f
The models below sought to explore the geometry and spatial qualities of the original Eiffel 1906 structure.
I wished to create a third Grand Palais: the Grand Palais des Histoires. This new Grand Palais would borrow elements from its predecessors, reusing the original 1906 structure for instance, but its intention was completely different, as I wished it to become a catalyst for urban reflection and empathy. The project’s name is derived from the polysemy of ‘Histoire’ in French which means both ‘stories’ and ‘histories’, alluding to the ambiguity between both in the case of suppressed histories whose non-existent archival evidence facilitates their dismissal as mere stories.
Image source: Piranesi, Campo Marzio.
The first design strategy consists of creating a uchronia, a place out time. The word is a neologism from the word utopia (Greek u-topos, meaning “no-place”), replacing topos with chronos (time). A key reference for this principle is Piranesi’s Campo Marzio project whereby he reimagined Rome by layering buildings from various periods, enabling one to imagine what Rome could have been in an alternative reality.
I endeavour to weave contested memories back into the urban fabric by adding a new architectural layer to the site that would show the shame and pride side by side without hierarchy. Indeed, my aim was not to judge history but provide make the past visible to enable people to be their own judges.
Image source: Picasso, Pablo. 1942.
Bike saddle and handle bars made into a Bull’s Head.
Détournement is a form of critical reinterpretation pioneered by the Situations International movement that has been used widely in the 20th century. Artists such as Banksy, Picasso, Magritte and Duchamp used it when seeking to understand an existing idea or object and turn it into something new. Détournement thus embodies subversive and transgressive design and is a key means of reinterpreting the past of the site and unfolding the potential of Chanot’s heritage. Furthermore, the medium of détournement - through which one intervenes in precise, legible gestures, is a suitable strategy to make designers acknowledge their agency and become more self-aware of the decision-making process.
Image Source: gallica.bnf.f
The Grand Palais I has in the past had various faces, lasting between a year to half a century. These were meticulously recorded, pointing to the facade’s role in providing a face not only to the Grand Palais, Parc but Marseille, or even France in the context of international exhibitions. These facades embody deceptive appearances and theatricality and therefore are a prime candidate for architectural intervention.
I first distilled each facade to its solid void language, following which voids were sampled and layered or subtracted from each other resulting in a subtle Cadavre Exquis. Finally, I harmonised my preferred composition and give it relief, for instance reinterpreting columns is flat extrusions
The result is a facade which from a distance seems symmetrical yet upon further inspection reveals inconsistencies. Half of the façade is covered in arches, the other with rectangular openings. The iconoclast gesture which sought to combine all architectures into one has become a new design language. It is neither classical, not baroque, nor art deco and it is completely irreverent to classical codes of symmetry and proportion.
For instance, what was originally a neo-classical portico has been perforated with the art deco openings resulting in what looks like a mucharabieh harking back to the Arabic pavilions that inhabited the Parc in the colonial exhibitions. Unlike the Grand Palais I’s past facades whose message was clear, this one begs more questions than it answers. The panel joints, which initially seemed centred, section a frieze irregularly, alluding to the disjointedness of a manipulated past. By remaining faithful to the scale of the original facades, the proposed design is completely out of touch with the human scale.
The raw tectonic language is a result of the Tilt-Up method of construction used to make these panels. Tilt-up enables oversized panels to be cast onsite into the palimpsest of Chanot, following which they are reinforced with steel hardbacks. thereafter, a theatrical process ensues whereby the panels are revealed to the public when lifted by cranes, stood up vertically and held in place by oblique shores.
Not only does the scenographic nature of the façade situates itself in the continuity of Chanot’s monumental architecture, so does its nature as a false façade. No effort is made to embellish the backside of the façade that seems to have been amputated from its host building – neither close enough to be part of the building, not far enough to be something of its own. The resulting liminal space is tight and uncomfortable, as one must weave in the triangulated leftover space. Furthermore, the juxtaposition of heavyweight panels that seem permanent and seemingly ephemeral lightweight props creates an ambiguous contrast making one question how long the facade will remain there.
Based on the premise that the past doesn’t change, but our relationship to it does, the Façade itself cannot evolve once it is constructed. It can simply to projected upon, as it constitutes the backdrop, of the forecourt in front of the Framework. Thus, without dictating a collective meaning, the façade holds a mirror up to Marseille and its inhabitants materialising the colonial and post-colonial context of Marseillais life.
Tilt-up Facade
1:20 Detail
The Framework replaces the Parc’s existing Grand Palais which is due for demolition with the salvaged skeleton of the first Grand Palais. However, to give it new meaning rather than implicitly reinstating the colonial status-quo, the structure is reassembled in an unexpected way, seeking to subvert the 1906 blueprint.
By fanning the structure, I morphed the static geometry of the Grand Palais I into a semi-circular amphitheatre that instates a new set of views and spatial relationships. This enables the past to be inhabited, yet rejigged. Six original trusses have been supplemented by ten new ones, making up 15 wedge-shaped bays. The difference between the original trusses and new additions is ambiguous, with the intervention not putting more emphasis on the present than any other period, whether past or future
By fanning the structure, I morphed the static geometry of the Grand Palais I into a semi-circular amphitheatre that instates a new set of views and spatial relationships. This enables the past to be inhabited, yet rejigged. Six original trusses have been supplemented by ten new ones, making up 15 wedge-shaped bays. The difference between the original trusses and new additions is ambiguous, with the intervention not putting more emphasis on the present than any other period, whether past or future
The framework can be accessed by tree entrances via the forecourt and one per bay on the outer perimeter, allowing people to wander in and out. The rest of the building skin consists of swivelling panels. Space is left unscripted and unpartitioned, leaving room for interpretation and appropriation for events and exhibitions. The paving pattern contrasts with the surrounding paving grid, establishing the presence of the framework at all levels.
Situating people midway in the building, the mezzanine provides a unique vantage point of the intricate trusses and hosts quieter, reflective activities. The outer perimeter mezzanine is climatised, creating the level of comfort required for long term sedentary activities. The basement caters to ancillary functions, such as toilet, stormwater storage, allowing the rest of the building to remain as polyvalent as possible
The spine of the main trusses are glazed, enabling them to cast shadows into the internal space.
The skin of the building is designed in such a way that allows one to combine concerns of spatial openness, solar control and ventilation. Indeed, on the outer perimeter, the lower panels can swivel, and on the inner two layers of panels can rotate. The building is designed to manage passively the extremes of the Mediterranean climate, and can switch to a mechanical mode.
From Top Left to Bottom Right, Marocco, Algeria, ‘French West Africa’, ‘Indochina’, Tunisia, Madagascar, ‘French East Africa’, ‘Autonomous French Colonies’
On a hot summer day, the skin’s panels would be partly open, partly closed based on the sun’s position. This allows the building to maintain ventilation and indirect light without causing solar gain. Beyond climatic ambitions, however, the openness provided by this set-up reflects the importance for the building to remain accessible. Here, histories are not written behind closed doors, but swivelling panels. Therefore, through the skin, building technology imperatives align with programmatic and experiential qualities.
1:20 Detail of Framework Skin. This section, taken through the external mezzanine shows the climatised space within the skin of the building. It is conceived following a box in box principle with to the left double solar control glazing with a low U value, to the right curtain glazing, and an insulated suspended ceiling and suspended floor.
Archive photo, la Halle Eiffel in Arles, 2014.
Image Source: gallica.bnf.f
Worm’s-eye view of framework bay
The structure is composed of primary portal frames part of which are historic trusses, others which are new. In it is then inserted a secondary frame in new steel which contribute to bracing the frame as a whole and supports the mezzanine level. The framework can be re-used and adapted thanks to its dry assembly, bolted connections and modular components. As a result, the Grand Palais des Histoires is neither of the past as it evolves, nor of the future as it is relatively ephemeral.
As a result of the two first acts of détournement, namely the compression of the facades into a single entity and the array of the original structure, le Grand Palais is no longer a Grand Palais in the way the term was intended. It is no longer a majestic, pure, archetypical building. Instead, it is an ambiguous, elusive, framework that welcomes one’s intervention.
But what of the rest of the site?
Image Source: gallica.bnf.f
From top to bottom: Pavillon de Madagascar, Pavillon de l’Afrique Occidentale Francaise, Pavillon du Maroc, Pavillon d’Indochine, Pavillon de l’Afrique Occidentale Francaise , Pavillon d’Algérie
The third gesture consists of resurfacing past pavilions from the 1922 colonial exhibition and turning them into follies. This was done by sampling elements from the pavilions and rebuilding them on site. The resulting follies are anachronistic objects of contemplation dispersed in the site, which act as totems, reminding passer-by’s of what occurred, as well as what was chosen to be forgotten.
Image Source: gallica.bnf.f
The Follies’ tectonic language is related to both the facade and framework. Indeed, a secondary structure that is similar to that upholding the mezzanine is covered in precast Ferrock panels. This harks back to the Potemkin construction methods used in the pavillions originally.
The final gesture consists of compressing the palimpsest and collapsing all temporal strata. The Fabric’s role is to establish a literal and figurative common ground, making up a tiled carpet that reaches into the palimpsest and makes the shady, tangled, and fragmented history visible.
The orthogonal tile grid established the datum of the site. The long-lost outlines of past buildings are inscribed in different materials following their age. The parking is identified as a symbol of erasure, having contributed to turning the site into a tabula rasa. Therefore, by inscribing the plan Poché, existing grid and parking spaces, not only have I made erased features of the site visible but the act of erasing itself can be witnessed.
The Fabric interweaves all the elements of the design, unravelling the fabric of the city. The large esplanade in front of the facade is left as a part blank, part annotated canvas, ready to accommodate fairs, shows, outdoor exhibitions, or protests. The only space that would have allowed for gathering between facade and framework is filled with an inclined void. Much like a tomb to the lost soldier, the void invites one to reflect on all the pasts we are unaware of that we have yet to acknowledge.
The façade is set into a meter deep trench whose base is coated in Ventablack creating a trompe l’oeil. Together, these interventions bring about a new spatio-temporal condition into a site that has until present nurtured trauma and subsequently enforced forgetfulness. The elements reintroduced from the past are subverted through legible, precise gestures, becoming a critical operation. These interventions refine how we engage with, construct and reinterpret heritage.
Through the Libeskind like incisions into the ground plane, passers-by can experience the void left from redaction. By metaphorically excavating the past, the project breaks the taboo and re-formulates the present reality to generate meaningful dialogue between social groups and their value systems. The negative skirting which surrounds the truss connection creates both a distance and intensity reaching right into the ground.
Epilogue
In the run-up to the presidential campaign, Macron said that he 'comes from a generation that, from a historical perspective, has neither totems nor taboos.' However, my research has revealed the existence of both in Chanot. I include this now not to make my project political but to explain that history is too important to be left in the political area or academic realm. I believe it has to be brought into the streets, and we must invite any and everyone to participate.
We must become comfortable in the shadows, both as architects and citizens of democracies. No situation is black or white, and practices that enforce such dichotomies such as contemporary heritagisation must be reviewed as not doing so prolongs the censorship enforced upon certain histories. While this project may seem backwards-facing at a first, it is really a plea to look to the future and built it conscientiously rather than simply following trend lines.
Many thanks to my tutors Stefano Milani, Jan Van de Voort and Carola Hein, without whom this project would not have been possible.