When I ask people to list the greatest buildings of all time, they inevitably mention magnificent structures like the Egyptian pyramids, the European cathedrals, the Roman Coliseum, Taj Mahal or Burj Khalifa— currently the tallest building in the world and featured in a recent Mission:Impossible movie. However, when I ask this question I am less interested in the buildings than decoding the underlying criteria that was used to determine greatness. The buildings people mention are large, striking structures commissioned by powerful, wealthy interests that required vast resources to build. Most often these buildings utilized the latest technology of their day and were built to withstand nature’s fury.
Are these characteristics the best criteria to judge greatness, or could a modest, less technologically advanced, impermanent structure ever be considered great?
Ponder the Barcelona Pavilion designed by Mies van der Rohe and built in 1929 for the International Exposition held in, you guessed it, Barcelona, Spain. This temporary, one-story pavilion has secured its place in architectural history and in the minds of many by transforming the very nature of architecture. Although it was dismantled a year after it was built, it can be argued that the exhibit’s impact far exceeds any of the buildings listed above. Up to this point buildings were made of well-defined volumes. To enter a building you had to punch an opening in the “wall” and insert a door. Once inside the spaces were divided up into smaller clearly defined rooms that supported specific activities. If you wanted some natural light or a view outside you punched another opening in the wall and installed a window. There was no question where you were as you walked in and through the building.
In 1929 the Barcelona Pavilion marked a revolution in how designers could define space.
The simple planes were composed in order to blur the distinction between inside, outside, building and landscape and challenged the very notion of enclosure. How did you know when you were in the building? Was the room defined by the floor, roof or walls? Were the glass planes walls or windows? Today most of us don’t perceive the pure genius of this building because these principles have been copied, used and misused for almost a century. However, at the time it was a radical innovation. After being dismantled these spatial ideas lived on through photographs and in various publications as an evocative aspiration.
There was a utopian feel to the spaces: open, accessible, defined yet not divided or isolated. No need to lock your door or keep birds from flying through the structure — the design was clearly for people living in harmony with each other and the natural world. As a utopian ideal, you could imagine this structure comfortably situated in the Garden of Eden. The ideals embodied in this project continue to haunt our spatial imaginations and transform the practice of architecture. In the 1980s, due to the historical importance of this building, a replica was constructed in the original location. The full impact and greatness of this relatively modest, temporary pavilion cannot be fully quantified.