The importance of being Renzo

I loved the interviews with Renzo Piano on timesofmalta.com and Bondiplus. He didn't say anything terribly new - we sort of knew that Brunelleschi's dome is a miracle, and that buildings defy gravity and provide shelter. Still, it was nice to hear it being said by such a great innovator, and in such an elegant and unassuming way.

The shots of his 'building workshop', where buildings are made as much as designed, were equally fascinating. Not least, the talk of architecture and spaces and such was all a relief from the boredom of waiting lists, immigration (since June 6 no longer a major problem), and Chiara's martyrdom (dry eyes all round).

I was particularly interested in two things that Piano said. The first had to do with the defining aspects of the context. For one, he seemed very much aware of the restricted and compressed nature of Valletta. He came across as almost threatened by the city encroaching on his little empty space, rendering any attempt at creating harmony with the surrounding fabric difficult.

Not impossible though. I've heard Richard England talk very intelligently about that corner of Valletta, which is actually characterised by a paradoxical type of harmony produced by a tight juxtaposition of idioms. Somehow, the baroque façade of Castille, the mannerist and baroque churches, the military St James Cavalier, and the odd-looking Palazzo Ferreria blend well together. It is quite possibly this terse conviviality which defines the 'citiness' of Valletta.

Which makes the prospect of a new parliament building in contrasting (contemporary) style interesting. Mario Botta's Malraux Theatre and Cultural Centre in Chambéry, built in an urban context and surrounded by 19th-century buildings is a case in point.

When asked about the inevitable tension, Botta had this to say: "Architects today find themselves at a fork in the road: they must either continue to support the current attitude of destroying the structure of urban forms, or attempt through the proposal of alternatives to reposition the city at the centre of interest for any architectural undertaking. These days the choice is to build for or against the city".

A contemporary structure will seem to many to stand against the city, but will actually be for it. To be afraid of difference and multiplicity is to turn one's back on the city. Valletta is beautiful precisely because it is not a baroque toy-town. That would make it quaint, no more.

Still with respect to the context, Piano seemed fairly sensitive to the aspect of time. The reason he is proposing to keep and integrate the remains of the old opera house is exactly his concern to convey a feeling of continuity on one hand, and the passing of time on the other. To do this, he has the best possible device: a ruin. Architects are not always so lucky.

The second thing Piano said that caught my attention was that "what is good about public buildings is that they express the pride of the community". I'm sure he knew he was simplifying and I raved at my screen when Lou Bondì failed to press him on it.

The problem is that Piano came across as somewhat naïve on the implications of the word 'public'. (Incidentally Richard Rogers, who was his partner for the Centre Pompidou, has on occasion and in print made the same mistake.) 'Public' is a bit of a misnomer because built-up space is seldom if ever unproblematically equally accessible to all.

Piano chose the word 'community' and added the definite article, implying that there is one community he is building for. Given the place in the capital, he probably had the 'Maltese community' in mind. Fortunately or not, nationalism does that to us: it makes us imagine we belong to a single, homogenous community.

In truth things are not so simple. I can in fact think of quite a good number of 'communities' that might be interested in expressing their pride in Valletta.

The highest-profile one would be the 'mothballs-and-melitensia community', who would no doubt love to rebuild Barry. The old city gate, pikes included on which to stick the heads of infidels, would also be nice.

Next in line we find the 'opera-going community', who want a place where Joseph Calleja can warble away his retirement. The 'Europid community', on their part, dream of Piazza Imperivm, a vast square built by whites for whites. The 'blogging community' would be charmed by wi-fi service and rows of laptop terminals, and the 'skateboarding community' would be inclined to misspend their teenage navigating ramps and spraying graffiti on St James Cavalier.

For my part, I choose to belong to that community which will most likely win the competition (provided the project actually materialises - I have said before that I will only believe it when I put my finger into the wet cement). Let's call it the 'let Piano do as he pleases' community. Just as well it will win, for the following reason.

An architect is a bit like a judge. A judge presides over court proceedings and listens to a number (at least two unless the defendant pleads guilty) of interpretations. At some point, however, the judge must perform the violence of stopping the ping-pong process in favour of one interpretation.

Likewise, an architect has a number of options available, each of which usually expresses the desires of a particular community. Because they must at some point build, however, the architect performs the violence of 'freezing' a community and representing it in brick and mortar.

That is why we need such a great architect for such a great space. The skateboarding and melitensia boffins simply wouldn't do. Whatever Piano chooses to freeze will very likely be worth the trouble, because he is Renzo Piano.

mafalzon@hotmail.com